22/02/2014 | by tristan | 1 comments
Ah, good old January. That famous month of poverty, self-loathing and moody resolutions. As the rest of society back on Planet Drizzle drags its miserable arse through another #BlueMonday of computer screens, caffeine and high vis jackets they shall no doubt be thinking of seasonnaires on the sunny side of a mountain with fondness and benevolence. Wankers.
January for the seasonnaire, you see, is pretty fucking good. A time of flim flippery, tom foolery and light-hearted gadding about. It’s a golden few weeks after the drudgery of a working Christmas ends and before the resort is invaded by millions of jostling, shin-whacking half-termers and their emotionally unstable parents.
You’ve been working your arse purple since November, there’s fresh powder outside, deserted pistes and a you’ve got a whole, entire day off. Make sure you do it right…