38 – Birthday Fears

Walking down Rue Pierre Goddard yesterday evening looking for the bar I was to meet my friends in, I realised that in two weeks I will be the same age as my mother when she died. Not a typical Friday night thought, like looking forward to the banter, the drink, the women, the pure spirit of the night, but poignant all the same. Continue reading “38 – Birthday Fears”

37 – Fickle Weather

Weather can be very fickle, but no more than here. After coming down from the mountains last Monday, it was warm and pleasant sitting outside a café early evening enjoying a coffee. By Tuesday morning it had turned into The Cairngorms in April. I remember going on a walking holiday there with my father in spring and it was like hiking in the Arctic. Driving sleet, snow, ice, and hail. The sky as dark as space with a wind blowing at full power from every direction known to man or beast. Quite unpleasant. If it hadn’t been for the food at the hotel and the go-carting, my one and only time in Scotland would have gone down as a disaster. Continue reading “37 – Fickle Weather”

36 – The Alpes

After nearly eight months, I finally made it to the mountains. Invited by one of my students and her husband, we headed to Bourg St. Maurice in the heart of the French Alps at nine o’clock on Saturday morning. That was the plan at any rate. Naturally, I made it difficult for everyone. Remembering on Friday evening that whisky always goes down well in the mountains and seeing as I had never used the hip flask my friend Steve bought me, I reluctantly persuaded myself to buy a bottle of Scotch for the weekend. Next thing I know my phone’s ringing on Saturday morning with my friend at the other end shouting the French equivalent of ‘Where the fuck are you?’ To which I answered, ‘Sorry I was out with my Scottish friend, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.’ Continue reading “36 – The Alpes”