As the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And so it is with holidays. This time next week, I shall be re-encamped in my halls to face one final term before the appearance of summer, and a whole new reading list to devour within it.
However, that doesn't mean I can't gift you all with one more load of pictures of me in silly places before I go to re-entrench myself behind my books.
First of all, let's play a game.
I like to call it "Where's Charley"?
The picture on the left was taken from approximately 20-30ft below my platform. The picture on the right is me, on the platform.
First to spot me gets a virtual cookie and a hug.
High wiring is something one will either love, hate, or flee from at the sound of the very prospect. My pity continues to extend to all the poor parents of small children in the first category, whose own sympathies lay somewhat more in the third. Luckily for us, the day's cold and damp weather meant that most of the runs were devoid of all but ourselves, leaving plenty of room for hanging, banging, and extremely undignified dangling all round.
You may remember me saying, however, that this was projected as a skiing holiday. Sadly, one always runs a bit of a gauntlet when it comes to skiing so late in the year, and so it came about that the lower halves of all but the highest mountain resort were so devoid of snow that alternate activities - such as exhibited above - were put on.
Luckily for me, my family and I were more than happy to clamber up and risk skiing in icing sugar and porridge (trust me, the comparison is almost as literal as it sounds) for the sake of stretching out the old muscles and putting our poles - and helmets - to use.
Some beneficient deity evidently approved of this, as our second and third days on the slopes saw a dusting of powder come down. The pistes were a little too far beyond saving at this point, but with a little adventurous spirit we took to the powdery domains as yet untouched by piste basher, and had a marvellous time of it.
I even managed to trip over a shrub, and fulfil my obligatory criteria of Amusing Crashes for the day.
Ah, but where there is snow, there is also water. Lots and lots of water. Very pretty water, clear and blue as the greatest work of any Photoshop artist, the pristine mirror surface broken only by the trailing leaves of willow trees and the shy flutterings of young minnow beneath the surface.
It was also, as I'm sure you'll be delighted to know, colder than the heart of the infernal imp who tangles your headphones in your pocket, and breaks your can-opener midway through a can of tuna.
Or, rather, the look you would see if my helmet hadn't been a size too big, and prevented me from seeing much save the glorious clear sky, and the sudden uprush of glacier-cold water as my skis took wayward detours without the consent of my feet.
There's no proof like a picture, they say. Fortunately, the inconstant settings of my mother's camera ensured there were several snaps of each frame of movement, and thus innumerable pieces of proof to my previous testament.
Oh, but this isn't one of them. This is just me letting go of the line to get off the lake.
And this concludes my second consecutive week in pictures! I can safely say I have had an awful lot of fun, and will be a little sorry to return to the far less exciting day to days of university life.
Luckily, this return to a slightly more schedule-based existence means I will be clambering back onto the wagon of regular posting, as well as putting into action some of the proposed plans I mentioned obliquely a few weeks ago. Not that I expect you to remember them.
No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Ahem. Sorry. I'll show myself out. Until next week, my friends!
~ Charley R