I am back at my office at the Kempinski, gazing at the ski slope. The skiing the other day began badly. We all got to the top of the slope and the children refused to go down it.
“I’ve forgotten how to ski,” declared Olivia.
“How do we get down?” asked Leo.
“I’m scared,” wept Bea.
We tried everything but in the end Rupert had to take them down, one by one. Then we hit the nursery slope, where I am at my happiest. After 20 minutes of patient training by Rupert the girls were yet again ready for world domination (their natural state). They demanded to go up to the top and asked me to lead them down. Soon they were overtaking me. Leo had a lesson and came out glowing.
“I LOVED it,” he said, his cheeks all red from the cold. “I went so so so fast.”
I am doing some work in my new office while I wait for them to arrive for another skiing session. This work includes looking at handbags in Harvey Nichols and all the designer shops in the mall to compare them with fake ones I saw last night. I am writing an article about fake versus real (I’d love to hear your opinion on this). I am also writing a piece about belly dancing.
As Muriel was told in that classic film, Muriel’s Wedding, “you’ve got to find your level”. I think I have found mine and I’m loving it. I may even get used to the skiing soon, one advantage of there being a total of two slopes.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008