I’m fortunate to have some wonderful friends who decided that Tany and I needed to go on a skiing holiday with them. So, last week I learnt how to fly down the side of a mountain with a couple of skis attached to my feet and not die.

Day one was a bit shaky, with me trying to do too much too soon and having to walk half way down a mountain. The resulting scars on my shins look more painful than they actually are.

By day three I was competent, day five pretty good and the final day was a blast as I made it down a black run without causing serious injury to myself or anyone else.

We even had a class race, in which I got second place and a silver medal to prove it. I can’t remember the last time I won a prize in sport.

The pictures don’t come close to telling the full story, the Italian Alps are stunningly beautiful, but then I guess my memories will just keep improving with age.