Isla eats soup!
Monday, February 14, 2005
Isla left for a week's skiing in France on Friday. It seems she only returned from her Barcelona trip a couple of weeks ago. Amazing. Twelve years old and she's off to Spain and then France in the space of a couple of months.
The original plan had been to go via the Chunnel but they decided in the end to use a ferry so the kids could stretch their legs and get a meal on board. That turned out to be a bad choice as Friday saw some bad Channel storms, damage to a dock at Calais, and some long delays on the crossing. The ferry was so busy they ran out of food, too.
Isla arrived in Les Deux Alpes after 24 hours on the coach. Tired and hungry. At least it forced her to eat the leek and potato soup at the hotel.
She called last night after her first day on the slopes. There had been an avalanche that buried 16 people and killed two. She seemed unfazed by it all and was off for a night-time open-air skating session.
When I went on trips when I was young I contacted my parents by postcards that usually arrived after I got home. Isla calls us every day. In some ways it makes me miss her more, highlighting her distance from us. And I tell her I miss her, something I never heard from my father.
The original plan had been to go via the Chunnel but they decided in the end to use a ferry so the kids could stretch their legs and get a meal on board. That turned out to be a bad choice as Friday saw some bad Channel storms, damage to a dock at Calais, and some long delays on the crossing. The ferry was so busy they ran out of food, too.
Isla arrived in Les Deux Alpes after 24 hours on the coach. Tired and hungry. At least it forced her to eat the leek and potato soup at the hotel.
She called last night after her first day on the slopes. There had been an avalanche that buried 16 people and killed two. She seemed unfazed by it all and was off for a night-time open-air skating session.
When I went on trips when I was young I contacted my parents by postcards that usually arrived after I got home. Isla calls us every day. In some ways it makes me miss her more, highlighting her distance from us. And I tell her I miss her, something I never heard from my father.
