The past 7 days is officially the worst work experience of my life.  Never could I have imagined events would have resulted in the way they have.  So much more uncertainty remains and in the meantime, we are all trying to get our heads around the car-crash that is unfolding in front of us. 

A very dear colleague of mine died this week.  It was he who I came to work for, and with whom I had a rare personal as well as professional relationship with over the past five years. The news is devastating.  My heart goes out to his family, to whom he was devoted.  The knowledge of his devotion makes his death even harder to comprehend.  My thoughts go out to them, and are with them when I wake and when I fall asleep.

Rest in Peace M  

I'm not normally a nervous flier, but heading back to London in what was being headlined as the "worst storm for 20 years" was a little disconcerting.  Not as much as the prospect of another weather induced diversion, or worst case the hysteria of P potentially missing her connecton to NZ!

Most of the flight was pretty uneventful.  A little bumpy but been on far worst.  Then suddenly *BANG!!* and *Flash* *sharp intakes of breath* Lightning strike.  Pretty impressive stuff.   A few stomach churning lurches and dipping wings approaching landing seemed far less adventurous in comparison.

One where I have responsibility but not too much?  Self managing but still managed?  Contributing to something worthwhile.  Making a difference.  Stretching myself but not constantly out of my depth.  Not being taken for granted.  Variety.  Not sat at a desk all day but not all day on my feet.  I'm a fair weather person but hate being caged in a windowless office.  Going it alone self employed has never appealed. I can do many things but nothing with the flare that would make me stand out from the crowd.

My "career" has been a varied and interesting one, but one totally built on a series of chanced, unplanned events.  I've never known what it is I want to do with my life.  And life is rushing past.

I'm supposed to let my Heart dream of my ideal job without my Head butting in with the all the obstacles that may present.

Perhaps the job I really want to do is be a mum?  And my Head has a lot to say about that!

Holidays seem so surreal when you've returned. No sooner have you opened your front door and the past week seems like a dream. No more are my days filled with peering with trepidation over the edge of another increasingly steeper looking slope, feeling somewhat sick in my belly... no longer is my mind trying to process Ulli's chirpy "hup and down" or my attempts to breath deeply, not panic and focus on my posteriors posture... no longer is getting dressed an important decision of whether to wear another layer or worrying whether we should have put more suncream on (it was +7 the first day!)... of endless hours chatting with C without running out of things to say… and trying to reach 10pm before we both passed out.

We have both returned in one piece. Well almost. All the angst and anxiety leading up that my back would not hold were unfounded. In fact my back behaved very well. It was only my right knee that hurt more than I cared for on the fifth day after what seemed like to be escalating all over aches and pains of days 1-3 had passed. And C's knees held out the course too. Unfortunatley the 7hr diversion from Innsbruck (Austria) due to bad weather (all other airlines bar Monarch were landing!?) to Verona (Italy) did little to impress my derrier, and an awkward twist whilst swapping our weeks with SG ironicaly finished it off so that I return to work with a severe pain in the butt. Unfortuantely C has suffered far worse. She took a nasty knock on the last day of skiing when a snowboarder smacked into her, but whilst painful no ribs seemed to be broken. She managed to get down the mountain and endure the aforementioned 7hr diversion the next day and an unplanned (very) early morning flight back to Edinburgh having missed her connection. That was until this morning. When something went crack… then doctors, x-rays and painkiller whilst she awaits the results. Poor poor thing. I hope it doent knock her confidence for next time.

It is such a shame as we had such a lovely time. The skiing was great, even though no fresh snow had fallen for two weeks. The weather was glorious for the most part, if a little hot and we made leaps and bounds with our skiing. So much so that by the end of the week we were skiing down the Igls Olympic (1972) Red with what could be describe almost as a degree of style. So much so that me and C, and John from our group braved to go solo on the last day and head for some high altitude easy Glacier runs on our last day. Unfortunatley the weather forecast had been wrong all week and Friday was no exception. We awoke to find the blue skies had been replaced by greyness and upon arrival an hour later the weather was distinctly windy. But we weren't going to be put off. The three of us, intreped courageous adventurers encouraged and looked after one another as we made a few warm up runs. Then up the planned chair lift to Route 7. By now the snow was falling heavily and the wind whipped up, but with a couple of stops to "appreciate the view" what little we could see (we weren't catching our breath, oh no) and we'd made it back to the restaurant for lunch. Hoorah! The map came out and the conscenous was to head for the peak and take the easy blue back down.

But after lunch the weather had not improved. I gave C and John at least three opportunites to opt out, but no, that's what we all wanted to do? I think we all felt that we'd committed and noone wanted to back out. It was snowing hard but visibility was ok and people were ascending all the time. In hindsight it was not perhaps one of our better choices.

Half way down we were suddenly in a total white out. We three stood still, I'd like to say because that's what you do but I suspect paralysis with fear had something to do with it as well, and agreed to stay put until it cleared, how ever long that might be?!?! And with patience it did and we agreed to get down asap.

It was then that the snow boarder hit C. Right from behind just as she was turning. Cs pole took the brunt of the impact which was severly bent but the board still hit her boot, thigh and rib. I could tell she was in a lot of pain. Keep calm, think clearly. Don’t let her panic. Then attempting to straighten her pole it snapped! Keep calm! Don’t let her panic. C was barely holding it together but felt able to continue so, being the stronger skiier and not having just been wiped out, I gave her my pole. John took the lead whilst C navigated painfully and I less gracefully with one pole down the mountain to the gondola. It was far more of an adventure than any of us had intended and one I would care not to repeat.

I do not pray often, I feel it rather hypocritical being an agnostic, but pray I did that we would all get down. safely. And thanks did I give for the fact we all did.

... makes the heart grow fonder.

And boy was it good to be held in his arms again.   I must go away more often.