22/02/2014 | by tristan | 1 comments
Wake up in state of utmost confusion, in unidentified bed, with mysterious, semi naked, semi-conscious minger next to you. Descend into blind panic because it’s a bluebird powder day and you’re miles from all your gear.
Manage to thumb a lift back to your gaff, then waste a further half an hour cobbling together a mega sandwich, comprising at least three carbohydrates and some extremely suspect, mature leftovers. Swipe bottle of wine from chalet store and stow in backpack with Jäger.