Holidays: September 2022

We arrived for our first ever family winter holiday in Kosciusko National Park to the unexpected sheer magic and delight of watching snow actually falling and, to my personal delight, I’ve remembered how to sort of ski.

Furthermore, and unfortunately, I think I’ve fallen in love with the snow covered mountains, so quiet and still. There’s something about those great swathes of solid blue sky and white mountain tops that is, somehow, wonderfully grounding. And as one tentatively makes one’s way down a slope it’s a marvel how one’s thoughts become zeroed in, focused on the white path ahead, while skis slide and swoosh endlessly and one’s body learns to gently lean to the left then the right, left then right, the motion pleasantly reminiscent of being rocked to sleep.

“My baby is called ‘Meteorite Basket'” declares Master E loudly at bedtime.

We all laugh out loud.

“What?” he asks, “I like the sound of that name!”

“I never thought I would be so good at skiing, Mum”, he says while we sit on a chair lift together, our feet dangling ridiculously high above the snow covered ground – a moment I’ll treasure forever – sitting up there, in the magnificence of still silence above snow, next to my eldest son on his 10th birthday and listening to him joyfully marvel in the fresh discovery of a new skill.

I gently advised Miss E this morning that she might do well to limit her over-reacting in ski lessons today, by which I meant that perhaps things might go easier for her if she could try not to freak out all the time about everything. “Perhaps you could aim for under-reacting and save your energy for skiing”, I suggested.

She was incredulous – “But Muuum, I don’t want to have no personality!”

“Any frostbite or amputations yet?” was the question posed Miss E’s friend’s email.

“LOL. I have a sunburn beard” was the reply.

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