The Proposal Story: Chapter One

And the award goes to...

One night in Les Arcs, we went to a quiz. Over dinner, before we walked to the bar, we tested each other on classic quiz question fodder: capital cities, geographical landmarks, celebrity baby names, current affairs, the Olympics etc. and we felt confident that as a collective (there were eight of us) we weren’t too shoddy in the brains department. We’d booked the holiday through a snowsports tour operator which specialises in student trips, so actually this was going to be a walk in the park – we’d be pitted against a bunch of inebriated undergrads! There was no way we wouldn't reign victorious!

However, the quiz organisers obviously had students in mind when they prepared the evening’s entertainment. But this was no University Challenge, oh no. Brains didn’t matter so much – you needed brawn. Marks aplenty were on offer for various challenges other than answering questions correctly. Had we thought of a highly inappropriate and distasteful team name, been prepared to perform a human pyramid in the middle of the packed out bar, braved a long arm pint, stripped naked on the square or transferred a gobful of beer from mouth to mouth around the table we would definitely have come away with the win. Had certain friends been there we would have TRIUMPHED.

Anyway, we may not have won, but the quiz gave me inspiration. Best idea ever - I decided I’d write a blog about our ski trip in the style of a student tour awards! It was gonna be hilarious. All I had to do was think up some awards. On a chair lift up the mountain one morning, I mentioned this to the girls just in case they had any ideas as it was a few days since the quiz and I hadn’t gathered together a vast amount of material. All I had was this:

Ideas

Biggest dick: Dick (coach driver), awarded for spouting a constant stream of utter crap from the moment we departed Clacket Lane Services until we reached Les Arcs, and subjecting us to the same sexist, foul mouthed and ill informed tripe for the entirety of the journey home too. 

Best at reading a bus timetable: Christian, awarded for his ability to navigate home via bus after getting lost on the mountain. Twice.

Most likely to faff: everyone apart from Rich, who sat in the corridor outside our rooms for twenty minutes one morning, ready to ski, waiting for everybody else who was late because they were faffing around with their goggles/snacks/gloves/boots/hair/face/socks/camera/money/ski pass/bindings etc. 

A few days later and I hadn’t got much further in my thinking than this but it didn’t faze me. As The Boyfriend and I ascended the mountain on our final morning of skiing, I still had a few ideas running round my head and was confident some more would come.  Looking back, I wonder if he had been able to mind read what I was thinking in the gondola that morning, or whether he'd overheard my conversation with the girls on the chairlift. I think he wanted to win an award himself, because at the top of that mountain, he blew everything else out of the water in a moment of fabulousness when he asked me to be his wife. And then the awards were written.

Les Arcs 2013 Awards

Being The Best Ever: The Husband To Be.