In a few moments, I’m going to try and sell you the idea of booking a skiing holiday through an online ski holiday specialist – in particular Get me to the

Prepare yourself.

But first, allow me to be brutally honest with you…  I’ve not been skiing since around 1993.  It was a High School trip to Voss, over in Norway.  It was – as best I can recall 24ish years down the line – just about alright.


As you’d expect when transporting a load of poorly supervised, pig ignorant, foul mouthed, 13 year old bastards from a rough pit village to another country – one where people “diven’t taaak inglish” – it was full of incident.  And by incident, I mean there was a great deal of verbal abuse, the odd narrowly avoided fight, and no small amount of unnecessary personal danger.


For instance:

Early one morning, I awoke to an insistent tapping at the window of the 3rd story room I was in.  I opened the curtains to reveal a zit laden, pan faced douche – whose name was probably Karl – with a greasy 1990’s center parting, dangling one handed out of the window of the room next door.  He had a Marlborough Light on the go, and in the hand that wasn’t preventing him from falling to his death, a wire frame coat hanger. It was with this coat hanger that young Karl continued to beat on the window like some deranged, albeit strangely lackluster, ape.  The fact that he’d already summoned the occupier of the room did nothing to deter him in his task.

“Alright Karl,” I may well have said.  “What you up to?”

Seconds went by without any discernible acknowledgement.  The snout took another hit.

“Whatever the fuck a want,” deadpanned Karl, out the corner of his mouth.

Good old Karl.


At this point I’d like to pause in my tale, and talk a little about Get me to the

Fully ATOL licensed – (T7467) – Get me to the are a great means of nabbing yourself a good deal on a Skiing holiday.  Particularly one set on or around the Alps.

Being proud member of the (TTA) Travel Trust Association, they also offer 100% financial protection for the cost of your Ski-cation.  So that’s nice to have, eh?

They do trips to Val Thorens, Tignes and a whole bunch of other resorts – all for around £400 per person, more or less.

* coughs

Anyway, back to the early 90’s.


There was also some skiing that happened, back then, but I can barely remember any of it…  Apart from one thing that’s lived with me ever since.

Now, the group I was in – about 5 or 6 knackers, plus a few others – the ski instructor we had assigned to us was an old bloke with a white beard, whose name was (more than likely) Gordon.  A mountain goat type.

Towards the end of the week long trip, when everyone had gained a bit more confidence, we progressed onto one of the big boy mountain runs – not exactly a Dead Man’s Run, black flag affair, but definitely a more advanced route to go down a big snowy hill.

Yes sir, it was a big old steep slope.  The kind where, because of the traffic of people bombing down it, you had to maintain a similar speed and course in order to avoid danger.  In a nutshell, you had to bomb it down and – in no uncertain terms – not fuck about.

Unfortunately, there was a girl in my group – can’t remember her name, or even particularly what she looked like – who was clearly shitting herself about it.  In her terrible fear, she decided her best policy was to snow plow her way down in a weird zig-zag that put her in the path of people in day-glo ski wear zipping down at 40 mph.  After two or three wince inducing near misses, it was the veteran ski instructor Gordon – who really should’ve forced her into this – who slammed into her, crashing into her right flank with an ugly clashing of heads.

Both of them lay in the snow, motionless, for several seconds.


Eventually, the girl sat up clutching her face.  After a few more seconds of silence, she emitted a terrifying wail of what can only be described as despair.  Gordon however, remained where he was. i.e. Face down in a heap.

Now, I was still up at the top with half a dozen other lads.  Yeah, we exchanged glances, but nobody seemed overly concerned. Certainly not enough to put anyone off their snouts, which people would just casually fling into the snow.

After a minute or so, myself and one or two of the less radge fellas made our way down to the scene of the accident. We didn’t go quick, but there wasn’t any zig-zagging either.


When we got to the scene of the accident, it suddenly wasn’t all that bad.  Gordon had staggered to his feet before slumping back down again.  At least he was sat up…  With a massive welt on the side of his head.  Meanwhile, the girl he’d crashed into was bleeding from the teeth a little and was pretty much entirely red in the face.

Gordon beamed at us all, in a way that was instantly a bit frightening.

“Hello,” he said.  And then he suddenly seemed to notice the crying, bleeding teenage girl sat next to him.

“Oh… Wh – What’s happened?  Did you bump your head?”

I attempted to gently explain that he’d – they’d – been in the same accident, and that he’d clearly knocked himself silly.  Gordon genuinely didn’t seem to comprehend any of it, which – I’ll be honest – was a bit of a concern.

By now, the rest of the bunch had sidled up and wanted to know what was “gannin’ on?”

I figured that – considering the concussion and all – we’d probably best head back to wherever we’d set out from and report in.  Nobody loved the idea initially, Gordon included.

However, luck was at hand: Luck in the form of the welt on the side of Gordon’s head filling with fluid, and in his continual need to have a sit down, look a bit confused, and not do any skiing instruction.

Well, that eventually did it.  We would get off the mountain and go and get his head, and her face, looked at.  True, I was called a “faggot” by some of my peers for having argued the case, but what the hell?


It was with some relief then when we eventually got to the ski lift.  I was elected to sit with Gordon, seeing as how he was my boyfriend and everything, which I was okay with.  I should stress at this point that he hadn’t attempted to abuse me at any point during the excursion… It’s not that kind of a tale.  No, it was all skiiing.  100%.

It had been a trying 20 minutes or so from the time of the clash of heads, so I was happy when Gordon and I “took off” down the hill in the little chair lift thing.

…And then, practically without warning, a massive blizzard came in.  The ski lift stopped with us suspended 50ft in the air, dangling off a bit of wire.


Well, I did what I could.  I popped my little mask on, put my hood up, and tried to get old Gordo to do likewise (over his head lump).

The wind and the snow picked up a bit after that.  I tried to keep my spirits up by chatting to Gordon about… Skiing, I suppose.  An attempt at conversation was made.

Unfortunately, Gordon missed most of it as he kept falling asleep.  I figured he’d probably die if I allowed that, so I would routinely shake him and say things like, “Gordon!”  That kind of thing.

That went on for a good ten minutes.


Well friends, we did eventually get down off that mountain, and back to the chalet(?).  It probably wasn’t a chalet, but that’ll do for the purposes of this.

I handed the old boy off to one of his younger colleagues – who also wasn’t arsed – and informed my form tutor accordingly.  I’m pretty sure a medic shone a torch in the injured girl’s eyes for a bit, but I could just be making that up.

Nobody died.


Did I receive some kind of School Commendation for any of this?


Nor did I receive any kind of cash bounty from the Ski folk for bringing one of their own back safe.  No sir.

Eventually, what I did receive was a two star ski competency rating, which was embarrassingly lower than the average three stars achieved by most of the class.  However, it was Gordon who presented me with my underwhelming badge.  He even said, “Thanks for your help back there,” which I was positively made up about.


Well… There you go.  A fun tale from yesteryear.

Don’t let any of the above deter you from booking a fun ski adventure of your own.  I mean, that was a school trip.   Yours will be an actual holiday that you’ve paid a very reasonable price for… Thanks to the good people at Get me to the

Oh, and you can also book ‘ski school‘ from them, if you think that might help.


Get Me To The Alps Ltd is a specialist online travel agent focusing on ski holidays to the Alps. We do not sell set packages like the majority of ski holiday providers, but instead, allow you to choose from all of the different elements of a ski holiday. You can choose any flight, accommodation, transfer or ski hire that you wish and you can book these singly or together. This enables us to give you the most choice and flexibility.

We have access to 1000’s of flights and multitude of different accommodation options. All these are bookable live on our website. We have some extremely competitive ski hire prices in nearly all of the resorts that you can find on our website.

We regularly have offers and discounts available. The best way to be aware of these is to follow us on facebook.”

(Lifted wholesale from their ‘About us’ section)


Yup.  If I was fixing on going to the Alps any time soon, I’d certainly book up with those guys.

And you can contact them too, if you want:

Tel:  0161 402 3650

Thanks for reading!



There are currently no comments.