Fun on the slopes; a long lurgy

Not long back from my latest trip to the slopes for snowboarding fun: Andorra once again, and it was a blast, my horribly persistent lurgy notwithstanding. The trip was characterised mostly by being my nephew Caelum’s first outing on the slopes, and all indications are that he’s hooked – already talking about next year’s trip (maybe…?). Another snowboarder on the slopes – I fear skiers everywhere are groaning in disgust!

But back to my lurgy, briefly. About a week before the ski trip, I developed a tickly cough, which was troublesome as it kept me awake that night. By the following day it had developed into a sore throat. Uh-oh, I thought, I think I know where this is going – having suffered enormously from chest infections in the past, this progression was horribly familiar. Sure enough, the following day it had shifted down to my upper chest, and I feared the worst. So a trip to the doctor it was, in anticipation of an antibiotic prescription and a moratorium on any alcoholic enjoyment for the holiday.

However, the GP checked my temperature, listened to my lungs and pronounced all normal and airways clear. His prescription? A combination of high-strength paracetamol and ibuprofen, for as long as it took to fix me. Fair enough – I don’t like taking antibiotics anyway. He told me it was probably some kind of virus: “there’s a lot of it about” he said, without a hint of irony…

A great holiday in Andorra ensued, with Caelum having a shaky start and finishing the week going lickety-spit down the slopes – certainly better developed than I was on my first week. But he has the advantage of youth, I console myself. Not that I’m a rickety OAP myself, just a little less flexible and a lot less fearless than my 13 year-old nephew. Such is life.

My brother Paul, for his part was a quick study on the skis – another relatively fearless individual. By the end of the week, he was improvising parallel turns and almost nailing it – respect! So best beginning skier award went to Paul. I think I was still a contender for the “best wipeout” award, despite my nephews’ attempts to fashion some good tumbles. At one point, I had to limp to the bottom and get a coffee, just for an excuse not to go out and have those horrible slopes attack me again… 🙂

As to the virus, I managed to get horrendous earache on the descent into Toulouse, and on the transfer up into the mountains went half deaf from sinus issues. And so it was for the week, with streaming nose, frequent sneezes and coughs – and the usual bruises (but a lot fewer of those this year!). Of course, I was feeling a little better halfway into the week, so was less diligent about taking my medicine – and paid for it by the end of the holiday. On returning home, I was almost as bad as when I’d left. And now, 10 days after returning, I’m feeling that the virus has run its course. More fresh fruit for me, I think!

So back to work, and it’s a refreshing mix of mainly good news – we’ll be in business for the foreseeable, by the looks of things. The economy limps on, with the list of casualties mounting daily. And the government busies itself trying to distract the electorate with stories such as Fred Goodwin’s pension (the issue du jour) – now they’re talking about acts of parliament to claw the pension back from him. For my part, I think it’s a slippery slope and I hope they don’t pull it off. Things are bad enough without such a precedent.

Anyway, enough political whingeing; go check out the ski pics in the gallery, if you’re interested. And if not, pop back in a few more months, when I might have posted something new!