So I think it's safe to say that Jameses and skis don't really work together very well. I can't get my head round this heel movement thing which was very frustrating. When I started smoking again I decided it was probably a good idea to give up trying to go round in circles (I'd barely mastered being able to stop) as I knew I'd start getting stroppy. Which I did. Ah well - the aprés-ski was good. (And I got there earlier than everyone else!)

Loads to do over the last few days. Julie made a gorgeous meal on New Year's Day evening and everyone came over. I was feeling a little antisocial but battled on somehow! She's still snapping at me (annoying because I don't think she's doing it to anyone else) but I guess it must be quite frantic having a house full of strangers at the most busy time of the year. Hm. Would rather not be a stress toy though.

Met an American boy in Le Drague who was having difficulty retrieving his jacket. So I offered to help and he kept on saying "I'm sorry, I don't speak very good French." Eventually, after communicating with him in both English and French, he piped up with "You speak good English..." Amazing how they've become the most powerful nation in the world, really.

Did some touristy things yesterday around the old town. After some shopping and stuff, I met up with Martin and we went for a (very expensive) meal in Chez Rabelais - a restaurant just below Chateau Frontenac - and then off to Le Drague for a few cognacs before heading back to the apartment for sleepy stuff.

He is incredibly snuggly and cuddly and I'd so like to just put him in my luggage and take him home for later! I think he realises this and it's freaking him out a little bit because I suppose for a holiday fling I'm taking it quite seriously.

But at the same time I'm thinking about everything else quite intensely too. Am I going to bother with 'the letter' when I get back to England and if I do go through with it, what am I going to do afterwards? The world is a proverbial oyster but I'm not entirely sure I can be bothered with seafood any more. Hmph. (Mix those metaphors...)

So that brought us round to this morning where Martin and I were lying in bed holding and talking stuff, only to be interrupted for me to go and spend the afternoon on my arse. (As opposed to my back!) I think I would've preferred to have carried on doing the holdy stuff; it would've meant fewer layers of clothing. It's a shame the nice ones are the other side of the world. He reminds me of Toby. I think that's the attraction.

Geoff's parents are way cool, though I can see him getting really stroppy with them in the same way I do with mine! Quite amusing, really.