Day 1 — Saturday

Get up at ridiculous o’clock to catch the budget flight to Geneva/Innsbruck/Turin.

Try not to get irrationally annoyed with fellow British skiers for being too loud/quiet/arrogant/ignorant.

Find bus, hopefully having explained with sufficient clarity which resort you’re aiming for. Hope there isn’t a stag do/uni reunion group on the bus with you. Eventually, begrudgingly, join in with their singing.

Check in, drop bags off and set out to find ski rental shop. Queue for skis/boards. Be falsely modest about ability, correct yourself and fork out another 20EUR for the best available kit.

Enjoy some beers/wine/jaegermeister before getting early night ready to “smash the pistes”.

Day 2 — Sunday

Wake up with mild hangover, half dress in thermals and head down to breakfast, for which footwear is apparently considered optional by some.

Waffle down cereal (with strange milk), a pain au chocolat and some baguette with delicious butter.

Join queue for lift passes, cry slightly at cost and Get! On! The! Snow!

Relearn how it all works. Feel smug about how amateur others look. Feel humbled by ESF and the locals.

Sweat, explore and be merry.

Day 3 — Monday

See Sunday, with less queuing, one fewer layer of clothing and slightly more technique.

You’re nailing this.

More drinking.

Day 4 — Tuesday

EVERYTHING HURTS. WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT?

Ski/board like a drunken housespider.

Question whether ski trips are worth it. Do you even really enjoy skiing? Are you getting too old for this?

Early night.

Day 5 — Wednesday

How have the Olympic team scouts missed you all these years? You’re incredible, or you will be soon. No piste can conquer you, and you must say, you look dashing doing it too.

The pain is gone (must be improved technique) so let’s hit the aprés tonight!

Day 6 — Thursday

Was yesterday a dream?

Sore head, stickier/icier snow than is reasonable given the price of lift passes and — obviously — piss poor weather.

Nearly the end of the week so perfect time to try some jumps at the park.

How are those teenagers so bold?? How are they still alive??

Hit the aprés with the elation of having cleared not one but several of the smaller jumps and know you are lord of all you survey.

Day 7 — Friday

Last proper day.

Up and out earlier than your body would normally allow, but glad to be on it.

Usually sunny with perfect powder.

Everything clicks. This is bliss. Maybe quit your day job and alternate winter/summer seasons?

Day 8 — Saturday

Get up at ridiculous o’clock to catch the flight home.

Try not to get irrationally annoyed with fellow British skiers for being too loud/quiet/arrogant/ignorant.

Briefly feel nostalgic and comforted at being home on touchdown. Prepare for a day of queuing, waiting and coping with public transport.

Resolve to book next year’s trip in summer to get a good deal on lift passes, knowing it’s about as likely as mastering a front flip 360 the XL tabletop jump at the snow park, but still…one day.