Dear Mummy,

Surely, the whole point of going to restaurants is to have someone cook for you. That’s like totally what you’re paying them for. But then this is France where everything seems to be utterly topsy-turvey…so perhaps I should have expected it. After another week of cooking for other people in the chalet I was expected to cook for myself at a restaurant! Fif, Bim, Henrietta and I went out for what we thought would be a well deserved meal – a fondue. But it turns out that they just bring you out your equipment and you’re expected to cook the bally meal yourself. It was the last thing I needed. I ordered the waiter to go and get me a chef to come out and cook it for me but in poor English and rather rudely he informed me the chef was too busy to attend to individuals tables.

“Too busy?” I said, “How can he be too busy when he doesn’t have to cook anything – the customers are doing all the work”. Like so many others he raised his eyebrows and huffed. Yes, huffed! Huffed at ME! And I don’t mind admitting I saw the red mist. I was quite furious. And this fact combined with the two pichets of rosé and drunk waiting for a table meant the whole meal was destined for disaster.

How was I to know that the bread was supposed to go in the cheese and the meat in the fat? It wasn’t like I’d been given any instructions – not in English anyway. Henrietta’s been a vegetarian since she accidentally ate horse meat in January and started crying when she found a piece of raw steak swimming around in cheese.

I’d had enough and I had the whole lot sent back to the kitchen to be cooked. Half an hour later it all came back on two plates – one of cooked meat and the other of cheese soaked pieces of bread (stale I might add). I’m surprised the rest of the restaurant didn’t follow suit especially seeing as our table had gotten so much attention. That’s me though, always in the thick of it.

Lots of love,

Tiz X

Dear Sis,

Oh my gosh, you’re not going to believe how chavvy the family I’m looking after this week are. I had to write and tell you. I think they might be as bad as the group who won the holiday in the villa next door to ours in Mustique last summer. You’d cringe!! I had no idea people like that were even allowed to go skiing. I always thought that skiing was for people like me, Feef and Bim…and the royals.

But it doesn’t seem to be the sport of kings anymore. These people! I mean none of them can even do parallel turns. I know! I stopped doing snow plough when I was like eight.

I couldn’t believe it either. For my own amusement started probing them about their lives back in England. It turned out only one of them had ever ridden before and they didn’t have their own paddock. I know I should feel sorry for them but I couldn’t stop laughing. Especially when I asked them if they’d heard of Jack Wills – Get this – They said they didn’t know him. Pah!…

But you know their whole attitude to skiing is different. I presume it’s because they can’t afford it and they’re trying to get their money’s worth. They’re up early, back late and don’t have long lunches on the mountain (which defeats the whole purpose of skiing). They’ve probably done more skiing in a week than I’ve done all season!

When I mentioned my observations to my guests though they seemed quite offended. I only asked whether they were too poor to ski and they’ve kicked up a right stink. I’m now on my third strike with the chalet company though what anything has to do with rounders I’ve no idea.

Lots of Love, Tiz X

Dear Daddy

Oh deary me. I’m in trouble with the powers that be…again. This time the chalet company has got it into their silly heads that I’ve poisoned my guests! I know, I mean the amount you spent on cooking courses so I could get this job, I’d have to be completely ditsy to do such a thing – a total ninny!

Of course I’m denying everything. They ( a family of fve plus two school friends) have spent the last three days recovering down the valley in hospital. Complete over reaction I’m sure but it’s quite nice to have the chalet to myself. So, every cloud…and I’m about due some time off. Anyway, as I was saying I’m sticking to my theory that they got sick drinking cheap fzz (though what they were doing feeding it to a four year old I don’t know). If you don’t drink proper shampers you’re bound to get ill. Like that time I drank a bottle of Lambrini in the fourth form. I deserved everything I got – well, not the letter home and the ten pages of house lines but you know – the bad tum, for sure.

As usual though, the chalet company aren’t supporting me one bit. They’re saying I food poisoned them but not using the fridge and freezer to store meat but using the, in my opinion the jolly chilly and therefore perfectly adequate, chalet garage. Of course they went totally mental when they saw I was using the fridges for Clinique face packs and a selection of beauty creams. It’s a war of words with me accusing them of inadequate refrigeration and them saying taht as well as giving the guests their money back I could be held personally lible.

So I gues what I’m assaying is can you make sure my trust fund is off shore and out of sight and mums the word on any saving s I might have

Lots of love, Tiz X

Dear Mummy and Daddy,

As usual life is being totally and utterly unfair to me. I don’t know what I’ve done to have the fates treat me so. I mean, I only get like one day off a week and it seems to snow on every single one of them. I mean, really, what’s the point in being in a ski resort if I can’t sun myself on a terrace. The snow makes it far too dangerous to go skiing. And you’re out on your own up there if something happens. There’s no one to help you. As I found out, it’s Tilly versus wild.

On my last day off I’d managed to get up in time for the last lifts (I don’t know what they put in that free Drambuie) but as I got to the top it started to snow. Of course normally I would have got the lift back down but it had been already been switched off!! Stuck. At the top of a mountain. In an Arctic Blizzard. We (Fizz, Bim, Sazz and me) tried to keep our cool and I rang the pisteurs to inform them that it was snowing and make them aware of our position at the top of the Le Rogonay chairlift. The situation was more dangerous than we’d frst realised- they fatly (and rudely) refused to come and save us. Conditions were too severe, even for them. We’d have to go it alone. I guess the endorphins or the adrenaline or the Drambuie still in my system took over. But somehow we made it down, tired, emotional and in desperate need of cocktails. Needless to say our slave driver bosses wouldn’t give us a day off to recover. Unfair!

What was even more unfair was that Bim was given a formal warning for vomiting on one of her clients whilst serving breakfast the next day. Bless her. I must say, we all felt a little queasy the next day, after what we’d been through.

Lots of Love, Tiz X

Dear The Mayor,

It has been nearly a week since my last email to you and I still have not heard back from you. I’m quite sure you’ve had enough time to mull over my brill idea – ‘Tilly’s School of English and Politeness’.

Perhaps you have lost my email address or maybe you doubt the sincerity or seriousness of my project. I can assure you that although my concept is vast I am 100% committed and I have great ambition. I envisage that one day there will be TSEPs all over France and one day we can look forward to the complete abolition of French as a language all together!! You’ll never struggle trying to buy a baguette again!!

No doubt you’ll be interested so further to my last email I’ve outlined below the modules students will have to complete to earn their TSEP certifcate (or ‘rosette’ which I think would be nicer)

1. Being Nice to Someone who is Buying Something Off You (basic Ps and Qs)
2. Chairlift Banter (From how’s the weather? to Who’s racing at Aintree?)
3. Talking to Stable hands and Pony Club judges (Rare occasions when politeness can fy out the window)
4. Taking Emergencies Seriously (From broken nails to lost eyelash curlers)

I think that just about covers everything but if you want to throw in your two centimes, I can’t promise anything but I’ll keep your suggestions in mind. I do hope that you can come up with some funding sooner rather than later. I’ve had some inspirational ideas for uniform and am already going to need to be reimbursed for my prototype mink mittens.Just gorge! I know!!

Lots of love,

Tiz X

Dear The Mayor,

Every location in the world has it’s downsides. Indonesia has tsunamis, Africa has its starving children and Haiti its earthquake. These beautiful mountains are, sadly no exception. Here of course, as you will have no doubt noticed is the lack of good spoken English. The harsh truth has certainly been staring me in the face since I frst tried to converse with a local. I’ve noticed half of these people won’t or can’t speak to me. It’s enough to really have me worry about the French education system.

Where I come from English is a basic human right and I was privileged to study this AND French (GCSE grade D) at school. I don’t understand why English can’t be taught as well here as it is in England! As you Can probably tell from this email my English is far superior to the standard of most locals.

As such I feel it only right to pass on my gift. I am writing to gain funding for a project that will no doubt be of great service to the community here. ‘Tilly’s School of English and Politeness’ will use my knowledge to train the many underprivileged here. Your funding will pay for the usual school type things – namely pens, paper and uniforms. The last of which I am jolly excited about. I don’t want to give too much away just yet but I’m basically blending the traditional blue gingham and boater with winter infuences of fur trim and Ugg boots. So cute!!

I’ve no doubt that as mayor you’l recognise the positive potential my school could have on the community at large.

Au revoir (as we used to say in French class ),

Tiz X

I just thought Iʼd write to make sure that weʼre too rich to be affected by this credit crunch thing everyone keeps boring on about…Or, to be more precise, that your credit card wonʼt be effected. As you are no doubt aware it is my lifeline out here. I mean, itʼs only been a couple of months out here but I have already lost count of the number of times Iʼve had to make emergency use of it. Theyʼve ranged from the girls and me needing emergency hot chocolates when we were up the mountain and it snowed to not realising Iʼd accidently spent my wages before getting them to needing a pair of emergency heels to go with a fancy dress costume.

For my most recent emergency your credit card proved itself invaluable as ever. Toddy from school – remember, we were on the same hockey team – was fl ying to Thailand for another gap year. She was flying via Paris and if I didnʼt go and see her it might be like seven months before I see her again!! The hotel she was staying in was so expensive. I couldnʼt have afforded a room there…and dinner…and drinks…on my meagre chalet girlʼs salary and allowance alone.

Anyhoo, we had an absolute riot and got completely blotto. Funny how an emergency can turn into something so positive. So the card is really, really important. So useful in fact that it might be worth looking into getting the limit increased. Especially as Iʼll probably have another emergency in a few months time when I fly out to see Toddy in Thailand!

Lots of love, Tiz X

Dear Daddy,

Having been on family ski holidays since the age of six I think we can all agree that I can be regarded an expert on all things snow. Amazingly though, even in my second month as a seasonnaire I am still learning. I mean, I used to think that snow was always soft and fluffy…it turns out itʼs not and like so many discoveries and revelations this one smacked me in the face when I wasnʼt expecting it.

The very hard and unfluffy snowball didnʼt just hit me in the face, it hit me in the relatively new nose you bought me for my 16th birthday!! And then, due probably to a combination of the facts that Iʼd had a few vin chauds and was wearing my ski boots, all be it unbuckled at 10pm, I fell over. It took me a while to regain my senses and as I burst into tears I realised Iʼd been caught in the crossfire of a snowball fight! I had bruised my bottom on the -another example- hard snow and shouted for them to jolly well hold their fi re and give me safe passage. I also told them about my sore bottom. Well they were foreign revellers celebrating some made up French holiday called Australia Day (…an excuse for a day off these people), and thus entirely unsympathetic to my plight. It was as if Iʼd incensed them further and I was duly pelted with another volley of snowballs. Ouch, ouch and double ouch!!

Eventually I crawled to safety and back to the chalet cold, wet and with only one ski boot. Iʼve no shame in telling you that I cried as much as when Tim Henman announced his retirement. I was far too cold to go looking for ski boot so will have to go shopping for another one when Iʼve fully recovered.

Lots of love, Tiz X

Dear Mummy and Daddy,

Damn and blast. Only a week in and it looks like weʼre already having to pull the plug on the wolf hunt. My meeting with the town council was a disaster. Firstly they hardly spoke English so I couldnʼt really understand most of what they said. They appeared to be laughing a lot though. As if my Pony Club rosettes meant nothing!!

I also told them how dangerous these wolves could be and that they had to be culled before theyʼre numbers increased but they said they didnʼt want to reduce the numbers of an animal whoʼs numbers they were still trying to increase. Are all French people crazy? Donʼt they have the three little pigs here? Even the pictures of Trixy and me looking fantastic in our hunting pinks wouldnʼt change their mind. So then I cried. Still nothing!!

Though my planʼs have been blocked in my efforts I did discover something that quite shocked me. Not as many people as I might have thought have ponies back home. In fact some people donʼt even ride. I thought this was awfully sad. I had no idea that there were so many underprivileged out here. I wish that there was something I could do. Perhaps I could have my winter ball to raise awareness. I have just the outfit.

I was sorry to hear that this whole Fantastic Mr. Fox thing has reduced the popularity of your own ʻbring back the huntʼ campaigns back home.

Lots of love,
Tiz x

Dear Daddy,

Oh goodness, Iʼve had such a wonderful idea. My clever little brain got all worked up and whirring when I heard about how wolves have been reintroduced to the Alps by environmentalists (thatʼs the politically correct term for what you used to call ʻhippesʼ). I know from all the old stories about big bad wolves that this is just terrible. What could I do to help I thought. Then it dawned on me… A wolf is not that dissimilar to a…a big fox. And therefore perfect for hunting on horseback!! And the French hate animals (they eat horses and rabbits) so surely they wonʼt want to protect a pest. Thereʼll certainly be less hunt saboteurs than we had at the 2004
boxing day hunt on Uncle Charlieʼs land.

Oh Daddy, wouldnʼt a hunt be marvellous. Weʼll throw a winter ball afterwards too. So, anyway I think the best way to get the ball rolling on the resortʼs first horseback wolf hunt is to get Trixybelle out here. He and I can then do some promotional dressage and show jumping shows. Thatʼd ought to be popular. Itʼs a jolly shame they donʼt have a Point to Point up here to raise funds.

Iʼll also meet up with the head honchoʼs of town. Actually youʼd better send out my pony club rosettes – or at least a photo of my bedroom wall (make sure you get in the picture of Prince Harry and me at last yearʼs Cartier Polocross). I canʼt very well start preaching about equine activities without the proper credentials. That ought to show I mean business.

Best go – Iʼve got work to do. Tally Ho!

Tiz X

Dear Daddy,

Well, hereʼs the bad news – yet another of your Christmas presents has been rendered redundant again. The good news is that I know exactly what I want as a replacement!! The skis you got me are old hat as Iʼm switching disciplines from skiing to the up and coming and modern art of snow-blading. You should be happy though, itʼs not like the time I changed discipline at pony club from show jumping to dressage and you had to buy me a new horse…before I switched back again. All I need is the blades. My style is Parisienne (with poles) so Iʼll be keeping them and I can use my new boots too – ʻParisienneʼ…itʼs so fashionable!!

To be honest I donʼt know why I didnʼt discover this sport earlier. Probably because itʼs always been a bit subversive and underground, but I donʼt mind being a trend setter. Oh sure theyʼre all shouting abuse at me on the slopes now but in a few years time theyʼll be coming to me for lessons. My instructor, Amigo, says Iʼm one of the most natural bladers heʼs seen!

And theyʼre so much easier to carry than skis. They never come apart and I donʼt get stuck in doorways anymore. In fact you donʼt even have to take them off for après ski! Though now I come to think of it I did fall down some stairs on new yearʼs eve – not that I can entirely blame my kit for that though. Fnarr!

Lots of love. Tiz X

Dear Daddy,
Thank you for my Christmas presents. Acouple of points to note though…

firstly, I donʼt think the new saddle and bridle for Trixibelle should count as ʻTillyʼ presents as the main benefi ciary is actually Trixibelle. Secondly, even if I were to include the pony kit along with the skis, boots, poles, Jack Wills gillet plus all my stocking presents I donʼt think itʼs equal to the Mini Metro and twenty-four two hour driving lessons that Felicity got.

Itʼs a funny thing Christmas – itʼs supposed to be this wonderful time of giving but I seem to always feel hard done by. It was so much better when I believed in Father Christmas. At least then I didnʼt have to add the disappointment I felt towards my parents to my woes. I can only presume youʼre planning on really making up for it this birthday. Jesus might be able to forgive you for your mean spiritedness this Christmas but thatʼs probably because his little sister didnʼt get a car.

I would have thought that being so far away from home this Christmas and being in a foreign land where they donʼt even use the word Christmas, you would have been a little more sensitive to my Christmas needs. Especially after you knew Iʼd dropped out of the chalet companies stupid secret Santa thing – I mean really, how can anyone get a meaningful present for ten euros!

Please forward on this email to say ʻthank youʼ to all relatives who bought me anything this year. Thank you and Happy New Year!

Hugs to Trixy and the Labradors. Lots of Love,

Tiz X