“Are you sure we were on the same holiday? I don’t recall any warm sun. It was bloody freezing,” Mel says, as she blows her runny nose. “I’ve been nothing but ill since we got home.”
“Come on, Mel, it wasn’t that bad,” Emma says, rolling her eyes towards Zoe with a grin.
“It was all right for you. You weren’t the one with chilblains. I refuse to ever listen to you again. The beach is where we go next time, Mel says.
“At least you lost some weight like you wanted,” Emma tries.
“Lost weight, of course I lost weight. The brochure said the chalet was a short walk away from the slopes; it was a long hike, twice a day. And the number of times I lost my ski in the thigh-deep snow, well, that was a workout in itself. I was sweating and out of breath half the time from digging it out while all you experienced skiers left me. I was too tired even to try to learn to ski.”
“And from all the digging, my hands were freezing, and my clothes soaking wet, as the number of layers were not sweat absorbent and had me looking like the Michelin man.” Mel rants.
“Ah, well, I did tell you even the most waterproof, warm, wind-resistant layers weren’t going to keep you warm. You needed thermal-based, as I said, but no, you thought the thicker, the better,” Emma insists, sipping her hot chocolate. “Do you want to moan about the hot chocolate, too?” she laughs.
“God, the hot chocolate. A bloody rip off it was Zoe. Four euros every time for a watery, out of the vendor hot chocolate. Bloody insult. The only way it made me feel any better was when it was full of rum,” Mel says as Zoe laughs. “What? It was the only way I could ever get warm,” she shrugs her shoulders.
“I’m glad you had such a nice time,” Emma laughs. “Don’t forget you owe me for the alternative flight home too.”
“Alternative flight? I thought you had returns booked?” Zoe asks.
“We did,” Mel and Emma simultaneously say.
“If the snow and wind weren’t bad enough, the heavens opened on the last day. The roads were jammed, and we missed the flight, a great end to the best holiday ever,” Mel laughs, as does Emma and Zoe.
“There is one thing positive that came out of it, though,” Emma says. “Mel got chatting to a cute guy, didn’t you, Mel?”
Mel blushes, recalling the moment she didn’t look behind her on the piste, having a speedy skier take her out, entwining with him in the snow. “Yes, I did. He knocked me right off my feet. He did,” she laughs.