"Six days a week, I was up and heading for the door by 6.30am. A quick detour to the bakers for the breakfast baguettes, croissants and a diet coke (good for hangovers) and I arrived at my chalet to face "the remains of last night". A quick clean round and the chalet was as good as new with a myriad of breakfast delights waiting for my lovely guests.
The guests fell into two types: the keen-beans who were ready at the breakfast table by 7am and the après-ski addicts who would crawl out of their pit at 9am. Some loud dishwasher-emptying noises usually roused the soundest of sleepers; once fed, they'd be out the door by 9am.
After a few weeks of learning to do several jobs at once, I'd be out the door by 10.30am with half of dinner prepared and a mouth-watering yoghurt cake waiting on the dining room table.
I skied everyday I possibly could. I would finish skiing at 4ish, grab a 20min power nap, race into the shower and back to the chalet to create 3 courses of culinary delights. I'd meet my fellow saisonniers in the bar after dinner and swap tales of exploding casseroles and sunken cakes over a few beers. A few beers would turn into a couple of tequilas and from there anything could happen!"
"Fridays and Saturdays were ski-deprivation days. Friday was shopping day. This basically took the whole day, as we had to go down the mountain to the large hypermarche. Saturday was the dreaded transfer day.
The guests would leave as early as 5am, and I had to be there to make tea and wave goodbye. The whole chalet had to be cleaned from top to bottom and fresh linen put on all the beds. The new guests usually arrived throughout the day and night so you were pretty much imprisoned in the chalet for 24hrs.
I loved living in the mountains, the great resort atmosphere, the friends I made and the times I had. However, it has taken me a couple of years to recover my enjoyment of cooking, and I still find it hard to come face to face with Boeuf Bourguignon and Banoffie Pie."