Home Again

Sunday 20th January

We arrived home to find more snow! This is the view from one side of our apartment, across the lawn.

And below is the view from another window

The snow lasted most of the week, and made getting out of the house quite difficult. Side roads were very icy and difficult for driving, and the pavements remained icy and dangerous for some days.

The Journey Home

Saturday 19th January

Sadly, there was no skiing today, in spite of the beautiful weather and all the lovely snow. This is what we left behind.

We had to leave the apartment by 10, and our taxi arrived a little later to take us down to Bourg St Maurice. Getting Eurostar home is a little complicated if you don't want to get up at stupid o'clock to catch the ski train home. I said I didn't, and now I'm sorry. We had booked the TGV to Paris Gare de Lyon, meaning we had to cross Paris to Gare du Nord for Eurostar. But we also didn't know that, because we were booking on the Eurostar site, we wouldn't be allowed to return via Aime, where we left the train on the way to the resort; the reason for this is that Aime has no passport checking facilities which is necessary if you are boarding Eurostar direct to London. So we also weren't allowed to board via Aime, even though we didn't need passports checked because we were travelling by TGV, not Eurostar direct to London. And so we had to get an expensive taxi to Bourg St Maurice, rather than the inexpensive public bus to Aime. And then the TGV stopped in Aime about 15 minutes after it left Bourg St Maurice!

Anyway, it was a nice drive down the mountain from La Plagne to Bourg St Maurice, with good views of the snowy hillsides as we wound our way down the hairpin bends to the valley floor. 

This isn't a very good photo; I had to take it through the taxi window, and there are too many reflections.

The TGV was comfortable and modern, and was about ten minutes late in Paris. Parisian stations are not well endowed with legible signs, so it took us a while, trailing luggage and the huge ski box, to find the taxi rank. The taxi was swift across Paris, and soon we were wandering Gare du Nord, where the signs are, if anything, worse. There are no signs for Eurostar; the signs, up a huge flight of stairs, are for London Hall! Fortunately, a kind man in the station showed us where to find a lift, and we were able to go through passport control and security.

There were speed restrictions in northern France because of the falling snow, so our train was late arriving at St Pancras, making it difficult to get back across London in time to catch our last train home. Fortunately, we managed it - just - and there was just one taxi waiting at Oxted station, so we arrived home after 12.30 and fell exhausted into bed, without unpacking or anything.

Last Day

Friday 18th January

Well, I didn't manage to finish this off for 10 days, but at last I have time to get more or less up to date again.

We were fortunate that it was the most beautiful weather for our last day and I started out on the lower slopes while Paul went up higher to see if he could find another suitable slope for me. After some time, he returned to say he had found a suitable route, so we went high up on a very long chair lift, from which there were some wonderful views.

We looked out on one of the upper villages as we passed.

We seemed to be on the roof of the world when we arrived, nothing but snow and white peaks from horizon to horizon. Then I discovered that Paul's idea of a suitable route involved a narrow path that seemed to me to cross the face of a cliff, and I felt I couldn't manage it.

Moreover, I seemed to have twisted my knee a bit as we skied down from the chair lift, and I certainly didn't want to ski miles on a painful knee. So I wimped out and decided just to go back to the village on the chair lift.

The views from the chair were even more spectacular on the way back down. 

I went back to put an ice-pack on my knee. Later, we did our packing and cleaned and tidied the apartment so as to be ready to leave on Saturday morning.

On the way down - 2

I passed this marvellous view right down the valley, across the desert of snow down to the pine forests below.

This is the paraglider I spotted on the journey down, below the Roche de Mio. He crossed over the Télécabine and passed dangerously close to my little cabin, but I didn't manage a better photo.

On the way down - 1

The view from the Télécabine station at the glacier looking down again. There is nothing to see but white peaks, clouds, and a desert of snow

The incredible view from the little car was obscured by scratches, marks and blobs on the window, but even those can't obscure the the beauty of the stark white peaks.

In the ice cave

The ice cave is carved into the glacier. The passage mounts inside the glacier, and there are ice carvings inside. The carvings didn't photograph very well. This car was life size.

There were some improbable carved ice animals - a rhino, a snake, a gecko. I liked this bear

More at the glacier

After walking around for a few minutes on the glacier, I was so cold I had to go into the Chalet du Glacier to drink hot chocolate and put on another jumper.

It was a long walk up to the ice cave, through quite deep snow. The ice cave was just a doorway in the glacier.

At the glacier

It was absolutely freezing at over 3000 metres. My face was burning with the cold.

The poor skier below was trying to enjoy the powder, but got stuck. You can see the undisturbed power stretching as far as the eye can see.

On the way to the glacier - second Télécabine

The second Télécabine ride was amazing. It seemed to go straight down a sheer hillside, with nothing but snow from horizon to horizon.

The ride went right up one ridge, straight down the other side, as the photo above, and on towards the next ridge.

On the way to the glacier - first Télécabine

The queue for the Télécabine to Belle Plagne was rather long

A view of Mont Blanc from the Télécabine between Belle Plagne and Roche de Mia

Clearing the roads

This is the little machine that chews up the big hard lumps of snow and blows it out as powder. You can see a couple of men with shovels breaking the snow banks into lumps for the machine to chew up.

Then the big snowplough scrapes it off the road

Above Plagne Centre

Part of the way down to Plagne Centre. This is one of the shallower slopes, leading down past some residential buildings and towards Plagne Centre which is still some distance below.

This is the slope I have just come down

Contrasts

Going up on the chairlift into a cloud on Tuesday

A view from the same chairlift on Wednesday

Days 10 and 11

Tuesday 15th and Wednesday 16th January

Well, on Tuesday the weather was fairly terrible, but I went out anyway. It was snowing quite a bit when I started out on the easy slopes, but Paul went up higher, leaving me to play on the lower slopes, and returned to say it was clear on the higher slopes. So we caught a long chair that took us right up the mountain. However, as we ascended, the clouds suddenly closed in, and by the time we had reached the top and got off the chair lift, visibility was very poor indeed. This made my descent rather problematic, as I couldn't really see where I was going. The descent back to the lower village is quite a long one, and I found I had little confidence in my skills as I couldn't see the surface of the snow I was skiing on. Parts of the trail were not difficult, but I found the steep bits hard and was slow in parts. 

As we got lower down the mountain we came out of the cloud, and once I could see, I did a bit better. I found the last bit of the slope, which descended steeply to the lower village of Plagne Centre quite difficult though, and ended up in some powder snow at the side of the piste, into which I sank right up to my knees. I wasn't anxious to go back up into the clouds where I couldn't see, so we caught a bus back for a late lunch. It continued to snow and was very foggy, so Paul didn't bother going out again either - he doesn't particularly like blind skiing either.

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny and clear, so I decided to give my knees another workout, and started out on the easy slopes again just to be sure the snow was reasonable. Anyway, taking the beginners lifts is a way of getting high enough up the hill to be able to ski down to the big lifts. Otherwise you have to climb up to them, in your big boots and carrying your skis. The sun was hot, and we both had to take some clothes off, as were were far too warm.

The same chair lift took us up the mountain, and what a contrast from yesterday! The sky was an unclouded deep blue, the snow crisp and white and sparkling, though the pistes were a little more crowded. I managed the miles down to the lower village with no difficulty, until the very last steep bit above the village, which took me some time to get down. After that, I had to sit down to rest my legs for a short while.

Then we found another shorter chair lift, and I was able to spend some time going up and down an easier slope, with no scary very steep bits. Paul got very cold again, and had to put his clothes back on again - his old black anorak isn't as warm as his new red one, and I am wearing his new red one, because some of my ski clothes are missing. By this time I had been skiing for well over two hours, and my legs had turned to jelly, so we made our way to the bus stop to catch the bus back up to our village. 

As we had missed the bus, we had to wait for the next one, and watched the arrangements here for clearing the snow. Workers with big shovels loosen the big hard heaps of snow, and a delightful little machine with spinning discs at the front chews up the loosened snow into powder and throws it out in a stream over the road. Then a big snow plough scrapes it off the road and piles it up in an unused corner of a big car park.

After we got back to the apartment and Paul had warmed up a bit, he went out again, but came back after only an hour or so, saying it had got freezing cold after the sun had gone down.

Saturday Views

View over the mountains from the bus on Saturday

There's lots of snow all over the resort

Days 8 and 9

Sunday 13th and Monday 14th January

Really, things have not gone too well these last two days. My expensive Internet connection ran out on Saturday night, so I paid for a cheaper one on Sunday morning. It worked for about an hour, and then all Internet connection to the whole resort stopped. I have since been told that there was a power problem. Anyway, nobody had any Internet connection at all on Sunday - you couldn't log on to any of the providers' sites so I didn't even have the option of throwing money away on an alternative provider.

We also had no hot water! I heated saucepans of water and had a stand-up wash - going back in time more than 50 years. Paul just stank! I didn't go out to ski as my knee was still painful. Thank goodness for Kindle - the extra expense of the 3G one definitely proved itself, at least I had something to read. Paul enjoyed the snow, and I wished I had been able to do so.

On Monday, my Internet connection had still not come back. Paul's more expensive one started working about 10.30am, so I spent some time trying to make mine work as well, with no joy. Eventually, I used Paul's PC to email my provider to ask what was going on, though I got no reply at first. I also discovered that my credit card was trying to charge me a second time for December's bill, which I had already paid. Paul went out to ski while I spent a long time composing acrimonious emails. Then I had to boil more water and have another wash. 

Paul came back to lunch, and then we went to Reception to try to sort out our cold water problem. Reception in our building was closed, but I was able to find a sympathetic lady at the main building's Reception, and she said somebody would call later in the afternoon. So Paul went back to ski, and I waited in for the 'technician'. My knee wasn't right yet anyway, also my French is better than Paul's and I'm not quite so deaf. By the time Paul returned from a good afternoon on the powder, we had hot water and he was able to have a shower. 

My Internet connection was also back late this afternoon, so I hope to be able to post this. Tomorrow, as long as the weather isn't too terrible, I will try my rested knee back out on the slopes.

More Foggy Scenes

You couldn't see much on the upper slopes

The lower slopes were better

This is me on my way down the hill. As it isn't all that steep, I am holding my ski sticks in front of me to try to keep my weight forward.

A Foggy Day

The view from our apartment is a bit different in the snow and fog

You can't even see the peaks!

There are some alternatives to skiing - though we haven't sampled this yet

Days 6 and 7

Friday 11th and Saturday 12th January

On Friday, it was still snowing, and had been snowing all the previous night, so the snow was wonderful. Unfortunately, the higher slopes were also still covered with fog, and Paul, who went up and tried it, said it was much worse than the previous day, so he suggested we stayed on the lower slopes; he took some video so he could be sure I was skiing parallel. 

The snow was very good, soft and fluffy and not at all icy so my turns got a lot better and I stayed out for longer than usual enjoying the snow. I was keen to go out again after lunch, but by the time we had eaten I realised that my left knee was quite painful and was looking very swollen. So, I had to abandon the wonderful snow and rest the knee. 

Paul went out on his own, but to my great surprise was back in quite a short while. He had gone up on a chair lift with a Russian family and when they got off the chair, the mother of the family had got her skis entangled with Paul's skis. She fell over, the liftie failed to notice and didn't stop the chair, so Paul fell over too and the chair went over them both. The result was a twisted knee for Paul, and though he said it wasn't very painful, he felt it was safer not to ski on it. So we were both sitting inside looking gloomily at the wonderful snow which we couldn't enjoy!

Saturday was the most beautiful blue sky day. The sun shone from a beautiful unclouded blue sky, the snow was inviting, deep and gleaming white and fluffy, and the pistes were quiet since it was changeover day. This was the idea day for me to be on the slopes. Unfortunately, my knee was still swollen and painful, and even walking was difficult. I suggested Paul go out and enjoy the wonderful snow on his own, but he was unhappy about the state of his own knee, so he felt he too should have a day of rest. This was even more gloomy than yesterday! It seemed such a shame not to be able to enjoy the weather and what would undoubtedly be the best snow of the holiday. Instead, I was stuck in the apartment with an ice pack on my knee.

In the late afternoon I decided to try walking on the stupid knee. We caught the shuttle bus to Plagne Centre and had a look to see what we could see of the pistes there, in case it was worth my visiting there for different slopes. Unfortunately, it was difficult to see the pistes from the town, as there were so many high buildings and I wasn't sure how we could get to a nice looking piste from the bus stop, without a very long walk. There was a very interesting looking Saturday market in the town centre which I hoped to see round, but the shuttle bus seemed to stop running quite early so we played safe and jumped in to the one that appeared and gave the market a miss. We just did our shopping in the supermarket when we got back to our village. Still, it had been an interesting ride and an opportunity to see more of the beautiful scenery with dark green pine forests on the slopes and white peaks entirely surrounding us. Taking pictures through the dirty bus window wasn't entirely successful though - and the tall pines which line the roads have a habit of jumping into the picture just as you click the shutter.

I'm not sure how my knee is getting on. It is still quite swollen and, though walking is OK, climbing stairs is painful.

More Roche de Mio

I chose this photo to give some idea of the vast expanse of snow.

I took it on the way down. The tiny specks are skiers.

The next photo shows a steep part of the cablecar descent, just above the village.

Roche de Mio photos

This is the view of the paragliders who have just jumped off the roof of the world! That small green curve in the centre is the parachute.

The main slopes are rather crowded.

Days 4 and 5

Wednesday 9th and Thursday 10th January

I've managed to post a few photos, as long as I can keep the iPad on the Internet. I've discovered that the way to do this seems to be to listen to the radio! I still can't seem to manage to post much text with the photos, so I'm doing them separately. As BlogPress no longer works, I can't edit what I've already posted so I'm having to do the photos separately from the text.

I still can't seem to do more than a couple of hours of skiing before flaking out, so I have spent two days concentrating on my skills and doing the beginners slopes again and again. I am feeling more confident, so on Friday, weather permitting, we'll go higher up the mountain and try a harder slope.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was a wonderful blue sky day again and so warm it was difficult to find any ski clothes light enough to wear - I was far too hot in just a tee shirt and a fleece, and had to shower and wash my hair immediately on my return. 

After lunch, I wanted to go right up to the top of the mountain to take some photographs while it was sunny - Thursday's forecast was for snow, and there was no knowing when we would next have a bright day. So I set off as a pedestrian up the Télécabine in the afternoon. It takes 20 - 25 minutes in this cable car up to Roche de Mio, from which you have access to a huge area of snow, with lots of different pistes. Unfortunately, most of them seem to be quite steep - Paul says there is nothing that won't freak me out. So it's only likely I will ever get up this high other than as a pedestrian. The views were truly spectacular, huge expanses of snow leading away to the far white peaks in the distance. We watched people paragliding off a high point - I'm afraid my photos are nothing special though. 

It was amazingly crowded up at this high point. I couldn't imagine how all the people managed to ski and snowboard without banging into one another, but there are a lot of pistes up there. It was also cold, in spite of the sun, and there was a warning that the last Télécabine descent would be at 4, so after I had taken my photos I made my way down again, and Paul skied down. The Télécabine goes up and down some particularly steep, not to say sheer slopes, so I tried to take some of the wonderful views from inside the little car; unfortunately the windows were spotty and badly scratched so I wasn't really able to do it justice. 

It is possible to go further up, right up to the glacier at 3000 metres, and walk through the ice cave. If there is any more sunny weather, I might try that. But it's a 45 minute trip each way and stops quite early, so I'd need to make sure I started out early enough. 

On Thursday there was snow! Fortunately, it was light in the morning, so it didn't stop me going out. It was still quite warm on the lower slopes, so after my two hours I was once again drenched with perspiration and needed a shower and hair-wash. After lunch, the snow became quite heavy, and the fog descended. I had intended to take the shuttle bus to the next village to have a look at their lower slopes, but thought this wasn't a very attractive option in the fog and snow, so I stayed indoors and kept warm instead.

Paul, of course, went out to ski but said he found it quite difficult. He said the visibility was very poor and it was hard to stay on the piste because it was difficult to see where you were going; several times the fog cleared and he found he had left the piste and was on a different part of the hillside. 

Some more photos

This is the view of the half pipes from our balcony

A snow boarder has just come down the one on the left. We think the one on the right is still under construction.

Below is the night view from our balcony

This was taken just after it got dark.

Two trial photos

Here is the view coming out between the buildings in Belle Pagne. I am about to ski down to the right.

This is about half of the slope from Belle Plagne to Bellcote; it's steeper than it looks in the photo.

Days 2 and 3 in La Plagne

Monday 7th and Tuesday 8th January

Well, I managed to publish one photo on Sunday, the wonderful view from our balcony. You can't see them in my photo, because the light wasn't right, but we are right opposite the two half pipes; from our balcony, we can watch the snow boarders doing acrobatics. I may try another balcony photo in the morning light and see what I can capture in different light. Since it seemed I could publish a photo or text, but not both, I'll try with two photos and almost no text, and see how that works. If it doesn't, I may have to do photos singly.

I did have my first day on the snow yesterday, and it began well. It was a wonderful blue sky day, in fact it was very hot. I started off, as usual, in the beginners' area, which in this case has two 'magic carpets' and a button lift, so you can get quite high up the hill, though they are rather badly planned; they are on opposite sides of the slope, with a shuffle up the hill between the top of one and the bottom of the next. Anyway, I was able to practise my turns, and seemed to be able to remember what to do; all the walking across the slope was rather tiring, so we bought lift tickets and went high up the hill in the Télécabine - the gondola. Then I skied all the way down and felt quite pleased with my progress. After lunch, we went up slightly higher, but for some reason I was struck with fear and found things quite difficult. I fell over in an extremely steep place, and found myself lying in the cold very wet snow. I'd taken off my anorak since it was so hot, so it was a very wet experience, not to mention quite a slidy procedure getting upright again. I did the rest of the long slope with no difficulty, but my legs were very shaky and my shirt was very wet, so we went home.

On Tuesday, we decided it would be better for me to concentrate on getting my turns right so as to avoid any more lying down in the snow; also, my leg muscles were aching, so I felt it would be better not to tax them too much. The day was even hotter, so we have left off the thermals, and today I wore a fleece rather than my anorak and was still too hot. I only skied in the morning, as my muscles are protesting quite a bit. Of course, we only started in the gym again when we got back from Sicily in October, and my last gym visit was at the end of November before we went to Manchester and I got bronchitis. Now I am both fat and unfit - no wonder my poor body objects! Also, my turns were not as good as they were yesterday, and I found it difficult to get my edges in and my turns are no longer parallel. I have no idea why my skills sometimes seem to go backwards!

I had a nice relaxing afternoon and Paul went off to find all the scary black runs. The wonderful thing about this apartment is the view, it is truly beautiful and is even more so at the moment because the sky is so blue and the light is so wonderful, so there's a lot of pleasure in just sitting and looking. With it being so hot, the snow isn't great, but it's not like spring snow just yet. I miss the lovely crisp powdery snow in Colorado. What we need is a really nice big dump of snow - preferably at night when we are snug indoors!

Trial photo

Im trying to see if I can publish any photos at all. This is the view from our apartment.

Day 1 in La Plagne

Sunday 6th January

It has been a big disappointment to me not to be able to post even a single photo using this stupid Internet connection - and it cost me £25 for a week, which would be expensive even for a decent connection. This one drops out every few minutes, necessitating constant re-logins with a password that looks a bit like a Polish word - it's a string of consonants without a single vowel, and I have very little hope of remembering it.

This morning we woke at 10.30! We must have been completely exhausted. As there was no food at all, Paul made a quick trip to the supermarket for breakfast food while I was 'showering'. (shower head fixed half way up the wall over the bath, about shoulder height on me. No shower curtain. No bathmats in towel pack - supplement €9 you recall)  He could not find any bread - there is supposed to be a separate bakery, which he could not find either. 

He bought some part-baked bread which you have to finish in the oven. We have no oven. We have what is supposed to be a combination oven/microwave with no instructions, so I made an educated guess. Not educated enough! Can you imagine what a loaf of French bread microwaved for 10 minutes might look like? Neither could I, but I know now! It looks a bit brown but otherwise OK on the outside, but is dark brown and has the consistency of a stick inside.

We had coffee and cereal and a slice of ready-sliced bread which he had bought as a fall back, also a pain au chocolate - he found a pack of those, though we don't intend to eat many such things for breakfast - we are too fat already.

We found a few other problems. There's nothing quite as satisfying as a good moan! There are no big cups, so if you want a proper cup of tea or coffee, you have to use a bowl - but I suppose that's the proper French way. You don't need a cup handle if you have your coffee luke-warm. The filter coffee maker delivers luke-warm coffee (that's why we have an insulated cafetière at home.) Here, we will have to heat it up in the microwave (as long as it's not too hot that you can't pick up the bowl. If you want to pick up the bowl, the coffee needs to be luke-warm. This feels quite circular...) 

The safe is locked shut and we couldn't open it. We later discovered this was because you have to pay extra to use the safe. We didn't know where our ski locker was, but have now found it. It is locked up at 7 every night, which is why we couldn't find it yesterday. There was hot water in the morning, but there doesn't seem to be any in the afternoon or evening. And you only seem to find these problems when Reception is closed. It's usually closed. And we have just noticed that the TV controller is supplied without batteries. But my main moan at present is that I paid through the nose for a really crap Internet connection, which is too flaky even to post one photograph. 

I've just tried again, with a photo of the wonderful view from our balcony, but no joy. I might try again with a single photo and no text.

After breakfast, we made a list of food and staples we needed and made a proper trip to the Supermarket, staggering back with full bags. Then we consulted the resort map and found the bakery, and bought some bread. We didn't feel like lunch, so we had a wander about to look at the pistes and lifts, and got hold of a piste map so we could see where there might be suitable easy pistes for me. I wasn't feeling too confident, as it has been a wonderful sunny day so the snow is melting and it is quite icy and slippery underfoot. 

In the end, as it was after 2 by then, I didn't go out. Paul took a trip up the hill and skied a lot of the pistes and trails so as to find something which wouldn't freak me out completely. There are very few black runs to satisfy Paul, so he intends to devote this holiday to my skiing, before going off by himself to have a proper ski holiday. And I spent my afternoon getting this blog up-to-date. 

Setting off to ski

Saturday 5th January

As I am not so fond of flying, I had persuaded Paul we should use the Eurostar to go skiing. This was a little complicated, as La Plagne mostly seems to expect the clients to come on a package tour, or else to fly or drive. So it was difficult to find a bus which we could take up to the resort from the nearest station. About a week before we left, the bus company seemed to have had a change of heart and said there would be a bus which would leave the station at 18.55 and would be suitable for our train which arrived at 6.30; we just hoped there would be no delays!

We arose in the dark and rushed around madly until our taxi arrived somewhat before 7am. It was fortunate we were early at the station as our train was cancelled but fortunately we were just in time to catch the one before it. About half way to London, Paul realised he had left his folder behind containing, along with our schedule, the bus tickets without which we would not be allowed on the bus! There was nothing we could do at that point, so we just had to make the best of it.

We arrived at St Pancras 45 minutes before our check-in time, so we went to a café which had free Wi-Fi and managed to download the bus ticket. Then I read the paragraph which said the ticket had to be printed on A4 paper, and would not be accepted on-screen! We consulted the very sympathetic waiter in the café (nice place, dreadful coffee) who recommended the Information Desk, and they very kindly printed the ticket for Paul. So we had overcome that particular problem, and were able to check in.

The train set off and made good speed until we got to the Channel Tunnel. Then we sat outside the Tunnel for some time, and were eventually told we could not proceed because there was 'a metal object' on the line inside the tunnel. A shuttle was sent out to retrieve this - I imagine it was probably something which fell off a train; then we were on our way again, but 45 minutes late.

For the rest of the journey we speculated on what we would do if the bus had left before the train reached the station. The Train Manager announced that buses from Moutiers and Bourg St Maurice would wait for the train, but he didn't mention Aime, where we were going. As we were still in the train at 6.55 when the bus was due to leave, we were not hopeful. My sister wondered if we'd have to walk up to the resort (18 km., dragging baggage and a huge ski box).

The bus company, bless them, had sent a taxi for a number of who had missed the bus. One of them had flown from Manchester, and his story made me very glad that our son and his wife had, after initially thinking that they would like to come with us, had decided that our grandson was too small and it would be better to wait until he was older. Our fellow taxi passenger had flown from Manchester at 7am and only arrived at 7pm! Imagine what that journey would have been like with a very active 20 month old!

There was fog at the airport at Chambery so the plane from Manchester, after circling for a while, was diverted to Lyons. They waited at Lyons for some hours for transport to Chambery or the resorts, then eventually the fog cleared so they were allowed to fly to Chambery. However, it was then found that there was no transport from there to the resorts, since it was by then afternoon and the plane had been expected at 10am. So the man we spoke to ended up going on a coach to Aime and ended up on the same taxi to La Plagne as us, at just after 7pm! That was the time it took us, coming by train.

It's a long and winding road up to the resort, so it was nearly 8pm when we arrived and the Reception in the building where we had taken an apartment was just closing. In her hurry, the woman at Reception forgot to tell us where the master switch for the electricity was - and we didn't know we needed to know it! She also said it was too late to give us towels and sheets and we would have to go to a different Reception for that.

We found the apartment on the 6th floor and went in. But everything was in darkness and there was no light so we were reduced to using my phone as a torch (Paul's phone battery had run out...) We searched and searched but still couldn't find the master switch and, when Paul went down again, Reception was closed. We were wandering the corridors seeking enlightenment (pun!) when we saw a man coming along the corridor the other way. He showed us the master switch in his apartment (over the front door, at ceiling level) and fortunately it was the same in our apartment. It was too high for me to reach, but Paul managed it. So at least we had light.

We left our suitcases and went out seeking our sheets and towels. Everywhere was closed and quiet, and we could not find it anywhere. After much solitary wandering and directions given by two different people we eventually found the other Reception, and got our sheets and towels. But we could see, as we walked back, that the supermarket was closed. So we dumped our sheets and towels and went seeking food, there being nothing in the apartment - not even a grain of salt, must remember to buy that...

We found a bar which was open and had a bar meal which was quite acceptable. Then we went home to make our beds and sleep for hours.

The apartment is quite nice, with a wonderful view up the slopes, but would have been an awful squeeze for us if my son and family had arrived. There is a bedroom with two narrow beds and a living room with three couches, which are the other beds. I tried to post a photo of it, but the connection is too poor even to deal with one photo.

There is one bathroom with a separate loo. The towels supplied (supplement €9) are thin and small. There are 2 flat sheets and two blankets for each bed. We were not cold, but I have completely forgotten how to make beds when you don't have a duvet! However, we were both exhausted and fell into bed as soon as we had beds to fall into!

The end of 2012

December 2012

As you might imagine, the middle of December was not an easy time for any of us. We were knocked sideways by my cousin's murder, and the circumstances were particularly awful. I was not at all well, and I had by this time passed my bronchitis on to Paul, so both of us were lying in bed, hardly able to raise our heads from the pillow. I don't think making long trips up to London to talk to the medical team on what were some of the coldest days of the year did my bronchitis any good, and I couldn't help thinking, as I sat coughing and retching in the relatives' room in Intensive Care, that I sounded a whole lot worse than most of those occupying beds there! At least nobody was expecting me to do anything - Douglas' partner and another close friend are his executors.

On Tuesday 18th I declared myself well again and went to work! I had already made an arrangement to do my consultation bit - visiting a couple of the many hospitals that the University Medical School where I used to work send students on placement. The hospitals are supposed to meet a certain standard for computers available to the medical students so that they can complete their academic work. They need special software so the students can access their own University desktop; they need to access medical journals for which the university pays and the NHS doesn't, and as access is usually by IP address rather than by password, they need first to attach to a university desktop. They also need access to their limited university storage space - and as the  specially encrypted NHS USB keys they would have to use for personal file storage are very expensive, most of them don't seem to buy them. 

The computers I had to inspect are incredibly spread out - a group in the library, a small group in the doctors' residence, some more in a room off a ward, two outside Casualty and so on, so miles needed to be walked. And one needs an NHS student login to access some of them, and a library login to access others, and most are in areas which are card access only, so one can't go alone. I needed to go round with a member of staff. 

I visited two different hospitals north of London, about a 30 minute drive apart, so it was reasonably complicated - not to mention incredibly tedious. Many computers have to be tested individually - can they print, does the sound work, can students access their e-learning materials, is the special software present, does it work, is there an appropriately configured shortcut on the desktop or if not, can one be downloaded from my web page? (Some desktops have been locked, so no downloads of shortcuts are possible). A detailed report is necessary on the state of individual computers. It's nothing at all difficult and quite tedious, but it is vital. I have a lot more hospitals to visit, after the Christmas break is over and once I am back from France.

I still didn't feel great, so wasn't inclined for much Christmas shopping. So most of Christmas was delivered in a van - thank goodness for the Internet! I did manage a quick visit to London to one of the Christmas markets, but I found I hadn't much stamina, so it was a very short visit.

Christmas itself was quite busy. My son and daughter-in-law and my grandson arrived on Sunday 23rd. On Christmas Eve my sister and my elder son arrived. He arrived minus his wife, who had gone to somewhere in the Midlands to consult with her family about her aunt's funeral - the aunt had died a couple of days before Christmas. My elder son was only able to stay one night, as there was nobody to look after his cats, and he went home late on Christmas Day to pacify his lonely moggies. We had invited the cats for Christmas too, but apparently they don't like to travel and yowl loudly in protest.

We had hoped to be able to get out of the house over the holiday and do a bit of walking, or at least run about in the garden, but mostly it was too wet even to do that. The rain descended in torrents almost every day, with very few breaks. At least we had been able to go out on Christmas Eve and buy my grandson some Wellington boots so he could run about on the grass in the garden without getting his shoes wet - if it ever stopped raining for more than a few minutes. Still, we had a nice family Christmas, though for some reason I forgot to take any photos at all. Mind you, I probably couldn't post any here, with such a poor connection.

The rest of our guests stayed until Sunday 30th. Both my son and my sister needed to work on New Year's Eve, so they all needed to be home by then. My son and family left before lunch, and my sister in the afternoon.

Once they had all gone, I was able to fill my house with wet washing. The rules of this apartment forbid the hanging of washing outside, so wet sheets and duvet covers can be a bit of a problem. Experience has taught me that I only have space for drying one machine load at a time, so washing 'day' is rather a spread-out experience. We have a washer-dryer, but as far as I can see, it might more properly be called a washer-wetter. It just gulps electricity and things never seem to come out dry.

Our own New Year was quiet - Paul even went to bed early, as he wasn't feeling too great - and I just watched television. Then we had to get ready for our ski holiday in France. Paul was convinced he WAS ready, so left everything until the last minute.  It was a bit of a mad rush at the end and he left several vital things behind. One tedious consequence of all the unpacking and re-packing and moving from place to place is that some of my clothing has completely disappeared, notably my ski anorak and ski trousers. I have to use Paul's, as he fortunately has spares of both.

Disturbing events at the end of 2012

Late November - early December

I know I haven't posted anything for months, and I do have accounts of a couple of days out to post, with photos. But I am currently in France, with a really terrible Internet connection, so I am far from sure photos will post, so I may delay that until I get back.

We had hardly had any time for days out after we returned from Sicily, and the weather had been terrible anyway. Also we had been doing a bit of travelling up to Manchester and back, so somehow our days were very full. On Friday 30th November we set off for Manchester quite early in the morning. I didn't switch on the iPad until evening, when I got the shocking news that my cousin Douglas had been attacked by a deranged person the previous day and was gravely ill in hospital. 

My cousin Douglas, who lived in West Hampstead, was registered blind. About 11 or 12 years ago, he got meningitis and shingles at the same time, and was in hospital for months. He was very ill indeed and was not expected to live. My uncle, his father, was told there was nothing more that could be done, apart from palliative care. Then, a few days later, he was offered a new and experimental treatment and against all the odds, it worked and Douglas survived. However, he had lost almost all of his sight. 

Because he was registered blind, he had to retire before he was 50 and to try and make some sort of life for himself as a blind person, which he must have found difficult. He was a very intelligent man, with a PhD in Chemistry and he had had a very high powered job involving a lot of international travel, so it was a devastating blow. He suddenly found himself dealing with disability payments and care workers and visits to Day Centres - if he could find somebody to take him there.

My cousin had always been quite an abrasive personality, but we were all filled with admiration about the way he coped with what had happened to him. We never once heard him complain, and he was always full of hilarious stories about his exploits. He utilised the abrasive part of his personality in dealing with the quality of the care he received. He had us in constant stitches with his stories, like the one about the poor care worker who spoke no English but was supposed to microwave his meals-on-wheels meal for him. The care worker couldn't read the instructions, which were in English; and Douglas himself couldn't read the instructions, being blind! I can't quite remember how he coped with that one! He maintained both a blog and a twitter account, so if I can find the information about both, I will post it here.

Anyway, Douglas did make a life for himself, and filled it with activity. At the Day Centre, he learned to paint - he had some peripheral vision. We always got a hand painted Christmas card from him. I wish now I had kept them. He got himself a long white stick with a bulb on the end and managed to walk about in his own street and woe betide anybody who didn't give him a wide berth, they were likely to be bashed with the stick! He got himself a computer and the software to read text to him. He signed up with the Open University and after some years got a BA in various Arts subjects; he completed this 2 or 3 years ago.

On 29th November a deranged person attacked him in the street outside his house, and he very nearly died at the scene. He was rushed to hospital where he had an operation to remove part of his skull so as to relieve pressure on his brain. On subsequent days he had an operation to repair his palate, and later he had a tracheotomy to help him breathe. He was in an induced coma, in which he remained for some days.

We couldn't rush back to London as we had agreed to cover for our daughter-in-law who had to be back to the hospital herself the following Tuesday. Anyway, with Douglas in a coma there was nothing much we could have done, except provide some relief to his partner. So we returned from Manchester on Wednesday December 5th and the next day I went up to London. I wasn't feeling too good myself by then; our grandson had been coughing like mad, and the GP said it was viral tonsillitis. So when I started 'flu-like symptoms and exhibited a graveyard cough, we assumed it was the same; it wasn't, it was bronchitis, but I didn't find that out until the following week. I had a medical appointment on another matter late in the day, so I was able to visit Douglas in St Mary's Hospital Paddington before my own appointment.

Douglas was still in the induced coma, though the doctors had decided to reduce the drug which induced the coma to see if he would wake up. He certainly looked in a bad way. He was in Intensive Care and connected to a lot of machines. The attacker had jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull, and part of his skull was still missing. It would need a metal plate if he survived, as the exposed brain was currently only covered with skin.  He would also need operations to repair his jaw, which was fractured in several places, and to plate his cheekbones.

I felt at the time that he was able to hear us - I'm sure there was some reaction to our voices, though the doctors seemed less sure. But we were talking about the attack and his pulse rate changed and I could swear an expression of fear passed across his face. There was a meeting with the doctors later at which they described reducing the coma-inducing drugs, but I had to leave before the end as otherwise I wouldn't make my own appointment. (Apparently my current stomach problems are caused because I have developed a hiatus hernia - it's a sort of pouch at the top of the stomach - and I will probably have to take a drug to calm the inflammation and production of stomach acid for the rest of my life. This pales into insignificance when compared with my cousin's problems)

I returned home and went straight to bed, where I remained, feeling worse and worse, for some days. As I seemed to be getting no better, I went to my GP after the weekend and he diagnosed bronchitis and prescribed an antibiotic. 

On Tuesday (December 11th) I was supposed to be back up in London for a meeting with the Police Liaison Officer, and the doctors asked for a meeting too. Although I felt truly terrible, and had quite a high fever, I somehow got myself onto the train and back up to Paddington, where the meeting with the doctors was quite devastating. There were 4 of us there, me, my sister, Douglas' partner and another of his friends. Douglas had not recovered consciousness, and brain scans showed that the brain damage was very severe indeed. It was possible that he would never regain consciousness, but if he did, he would probably be bedridden and need 24 hour care, including every sort of personal care, and he would have lost any peripheral vision he had had, and might be deaf as well. This did not seem a future that anyone would want to contemplate, so all 4 of us agreed with the doctor's opinion that the best course would be to turn off all the machines and allow him to die naturally. We went in to see him, but this time it seemed to me that Douglas wasn't there at all; there was no response to our voices or to touch. The machines were switched off the next day, and he died the following day, December 13th, in the early morning.

We found out a bit more informaton from the Police Liaison Officer. As the police had no difficulty in catching the deranged attacker, there may well be a trial if he is judged fit to plead. He is an 18 year old German with mental health problems; he confessed not only to the attack on Douglas, but to murdering another man in Germany before he left there. He is currently in custody.

What happened seems really quite bizarre.  The shingles from which Douglas suffered along with the meningitis left him with some skin problems on his face and head and it also left his eyes very inflamed and sore. It was apparently Douglas' appearance which attracted the attention of this young man. Douglas had been to visit the National Portrait Gallery just off Trafalgar Square, where they have special tours for the visually impaired; a volunteer takes them around and describes the pictures for them, and Douglas took advantage of this whenever he could. After his tour, the volunteer took him down to Charing Cross Station so he could catch the Tube home. 

The young German was in London as a tourist, and was visiting Trafalgar Square. He saw Douglas, and for some reason thought he was not really blind. He also told the police he could tell that Douglas was a very evil man - I assume that might be partly because of the swollen red eyes - so he decided to kill him. He followed him in the tube all the way home. This must have involved a change of tube; I'm not sure how Douglas handled that, he wouldn't be able to manage on his own, but I guess the station staff helped him. Anyway, apparently the police have the young man on various CCTVs following Douglas home. He must have followed him on foot all the way down from the tube station nearest to his house, which is almost a mile, before attacking him on his doorstep. He knocked him to the ground and jumped on his head, crushing and fracturing his skull.

If Douglas had not been so independent and so determined to make a life for himself without relying totally on others, I daresay it might never have happened. But he was never one to sit around in the house and do nothing. As I said, he never complained about the blindness destroying his life, he just got on with it and made himself a different life. There were many things he couldn't do - travel was beyond him for instance; he needed a guide in any unfamiliar place. But he was determined not to be a prisoner and did whatever he could, and he thought he knew his own street well enough to feel safe there.

We do not know when the funeral will be; there has been a postmortem and there might need to be a second. (The defence can request a second postmortem on their behalf, though it seems unlikely in this case). The police tell us that they are not likely to release the body for some months, as his brain has been sent away for further analysis; so the funeral will be delayed until the body can be released. He will be buried with his parents up in Edinburgh, (we are a Scottish family) but this not likely to be until the end of February at the earliest, perhaps even March. His partner is organising both this and the memorial service in London for his London friends, which is set for later in January.

This post, all rather serious and disturbing, is more than long enough already, so I will post it and continue later.