Luxury Ski Chalet

Airelles, Courchevel

Escapism. Goodness knows we all need some after the last couple of years. Crossing the Masai Mara at sunrise by hot air balloon to watch the migration or boarding the Glacier Express across the alps is arguably bucket list-worthy. However, for me, the instant gratification of short-haul travel is equally satisfying, waking up to the mundane breakfast at home, yet taking lunch somewhere completely out of the ordinary. With French Alpine resorts open, this can only mean taking that midday intermission mountainside.

Chalet F’Net

The first chairlift in Europe was built in 1940 in Czechoslovakia, in the Moravian Silesian Beskides mountain range. Before the invention of the modern chairlift, we had the J-bar or cable car. Arguably the main mode of transport up the pistes of Europe was still rope, with mountaineering still favoured by many. With each giant leap forward in mountain technology, small alpine towns were constantly having to cater to larger and larger international footfall. This rapid clash of tradition and modernity often left centuries-old mountain villages looking more like McMountain retreats than classic Montblanc. So, it is deeply refreshing when you arrive in a ‘ski resort’ to find it hasn’t…


Having just flown back from France two days prior to my first proper ski trip of the season to attend the wedding of fellow correspondents, Drs. Paul and Lucy Farrow, I was all too aware of just how soul destroying budget air travel is. If you have ever flown in Asia or the US you will have noticed that some of the planes operating are far from in their heyday. Flight used to be about prestige, people dressed for the occasion, cigarettes came with mandatory jade holders, champagne flutes would clink and the captain might even come and join you for a toast. Now the ashtrays on planes are welded…

Mountain Exposure – Zermatt

I don’t know where to start. It creeps up on me. I could be placating my way through a board meeting, or having drinks with friends, and then I just lose all interest. The situation, whatever it is, completely ceases to amaze me. Life just loses its colour. I try to reassure myself, whilst hopelessly attempting to coax the addiction monkey off my shoulder and back into its bloody cage. I just can’t get enough powder. Before we go any further, and I get a call from my mother (probably to enquire into the quality, rather than express concern) I want to make it clear that I’m talking about snow….