We're knee-deep in interseason now. The madness has arrived to all in the valley and Chamonix's in a catatonic, zombie state. Guys are walking around with no less than 4 days growth on their chins, girls are not colour co-ordinated. People wear dirty clothes and there's a kind of air of Nirvana (the Seattle-based grunge/rock band, not the Buddhist state of enlightenment) about the place. Simply put no-one gives a fuck.
The seasonal affective disorder that keeps getting mentioned in the UK press is magnified. The British media should come out here and really see just how deep the rabbit hole goes. The other day I felt it was appropriate to nip to the bakers in the morning in my dressing gown and trainers. Bearing in mind that I live in the middle of Chamonix this was probably not exactly what people were expecting to see. The good news was that the only other people around were zombies and there was another chap in a dressing gown too so we positively looked like the norm. I'll be honest though, I totally felt like "The Dude" out of The Big Lebowski.
The best good news is that we're currently coming out of the madness as the recession of autumn marches on into the sparkling, sprinkling, twinkling winter with all the snow and adventures it brings.
Well I'm off to go and join the other like-minded monkeys who live in the valley to celebrate a birthday. Unlike them however I will be shaved, fresh haircut and wearing clean clothes. This is because I'm english By Jove! And we dress for dinner, no matter the circumstance.