12 Sloane Rangers and Me
Well it wasn’t just me it was a friend, his sister and me. Holidays were very important in those days a chance to get away from the angst of work something to look forward to and I really sympathize with those with stressful jobs and home lives missing the joy of the holiday in the pandemic. Skiing was my favourite, all that invigorating air, blue skies and beautiful snow capped mountain views. Racing down slopes all day and partying all night. Beats the beach any day for me. Chalet holidays were all the rage in those days and you could either book a whole chalet with your friends or take pot luck and join one. It tended to be posh people who went skiing in those days but it is much more eclectic these days.
On this occasion we joined a party of 12 poshos given the nickname of Sloane Rangers presumably as they hung out in Sloane Square, 6 chaps and 6 girls. There was only one couple at the start and I am sure it was the clear intention that the ratio should improve after two weeks. When we arrived, the girls looked distinctly sniffy — they didn’t mind the extra chap but were not keen on two extra girls. This was not helped by the fact that most of the girls were beginners and the chaps weren’t so they wanted to come with us during the day. Some of the girls did not take to skiing and spent most of the holiday rather grumpily in the chalet or having hot chocolates in the town.
Further fuel to the fire was the fact that one of the chaps fell for the chalet host, in fact some years later they married and we went to a very grand wedding in Norfolk cathedral. I met some mates of my brother-law from Manchester and tried to liven things up by asking them round one evening. They arrived rather the worse for wear and the Sloanes were not impressed. My friend took a shine to a girl in the ski queue so I had to chat her up for him. It turned out that she was in the chalet next door so he wasn’t available either. That didn’t last but she became a friend of mine for life.
Skiing can be quite dangerous and a funny incident happened which could have been much worse. My friend who was a linguist went to the aid of a German who was struggling with how to manage two small boys aged about 5 or 6 onto a two seater chair lift, so my friend offered in fluent German to take one of them. However as he was trying to load the wriggling child onto the seat as they took off somehow the little boy fell our. Fortunately it was only a drop of about 6 feet into deep snow but I could see my friend not knowing whether to jump out after him, but by this time he was about 100 feet up in the air. It must have been an awkward moment or two when he arrived childless until I appeared clutching the child firmly. Years later I had a similar experience with my three year old grandchild who had major meltdown on a six seater lift as somehow her Mummy had got caught up in the crowd and not got on the seat next to her. I was on the other side and had to grip her firmly wedging her in with my ski sticks while she kicked her skis and boots off which rained down on unsuspecting skiers below. It was a challenge trying to negotiate getting off clutching a still sobbing child in stocking feet. I can sense those of you who don’t like skiing muttering ‘why do they do it?’.
Speaking of lifts, remember the dreaded T bars which thankfully are being phased out but were popular during the early days as they were a cheap way to get people up the slopes. For those of you who are not skiers they are wooden T shaped bars dangling from a wire which the bored chap at the bottom of the lift pulls down and puts behind your bum along with that of another unsuspecting or fearful person and with a jerk you set off. Often the jerk is enough to leave you both splat on your faces and given that you could be sharing this T bar with someone of 6 ft 5, their bum is nowhere the same distance off the ground as mine . This this means you are often headed for disaster.
The worst experience I had on a T bar came when a very large woman came unstuck just on the crest of an extremely steep slope and slid down the slope gathering speed and skiers behind her on the way. It was a narrow pathway with steep sides so you could not pull to one side and about 15 skiers piled into me skies sticks and poles everywhere not to mention bodies. When I emerged I noticed my left pinkie looked a bit strange but it hardly warranted a blood wagon (this is what they call the stretcher they come to the rescue with) so there was nothing for it but to go up again.
The doctor said ‘’well so long as you are not a concert pianist I wouldn’t worry’ and put a plaster on my whole forearm so that I could keep skiing. They can be a bit callous these doctors, when I broke my collarbone many years later the doctor just said ‘given your age it is not worth pinning it, so long as you avoid doing handstands for a few months!!’
P.S. Finally plucked up the courage since the cruise to weigh myself ………..now on a diet
P.P.S. Scotland won the Rugby………Yeah!
