Yorkshire Haven Trustees BLOG - Monday 16th Jan 2012

Some weeks disappear in a hurry when you are busy, busy, busy. This was one of those weeks.

I've never had expert marketing support before and Monday was my first stab at looking at a fresh campaign. All these buzz words are new of course. 'Collateral' sounds like something out of the Bourne Identity to me. I have to admit that professional marketing help certainly shakes up your approach and headset, even if ultimately some of the ideas are out of kilter with your remit. It challenges you out of your comfort blanket. As I get older, I realise that I've become more and more inclined to play safe and less and less inclined to take risks.

On the other hand Tuesday reminded me that there are a lot of risks associated with living. Sat on the M1 car park for two hours (due to an accident that closed it in both directions, just short of Woolley Edge services and less than twenty miles from Leeds with 160 miles left to Hereford) I had set off needing to get diesel but as I always put it off until the mileage countdown makes it totally obligatory and unavoidable, I really did need fuel. I had a choice. Run out and cause more distress but amuse my fellow road sufferers with the AA or put my hazards on and go up the hard shoulder to the services. Only I couldn't find my hazards.

I'm sure it's obvious where they are but it isn't obvious to me. Whatever. I did go up the hard shoulder for one mile on an indicated three miles of diesel with a clear conscience - though I fully expected to be stopped by a nice young policeman and handed a huge fine. Hey ho. Such is life.

But no. Or at least but not yet. Once filled up, I noticed the steady stream of wagons ignoring the 'hotel guests only' warning at the bottom of a steep hill that looked suspiciously like it lead to a bridge over the motorway and allowed you back on the other side to go home. Figuring that wagon drivers know best, I followed my leaders and two minutes later whizzed merrily back north on an empty motorway and rejoiced that I'd nearly run out of fuel. But hadn't. You see Dad, sometimes incurring your unknowing wrath yields risky but unexpectedly good results.

Determined to make Hereford despite the odds and less than an hour late via Manchester, I did. What a lovely old town it is. The surrounding countryside is just super. It reminded me of LEJOG and the second section from Bristol up to Telford which was probably the most enjoyable part of the trip looking back.

Cancelling all other appointments, I got back to Wakefield the way I should have travelled but in three hours flat (which wasn't bad, considering that was round Birmingham in rush hour) and made my first Yorkshire Philharmonic Choir rehearsal. What a fantastic experience that was in a room of approximately 80 wonderful voices and me! The pieces are Carmina Burrano and Mise which are new to me but I found myself joining in where I could with the complex music scores and loved every moment of it. After a few weeks I will be auditioned to see whether I'm good enough to have a place. Fingers crossed because I know I'd really like one.

Wednesday was another strategy day, refining the marketing approach but also laying more foundations for Pink Power which I have been quietly developing in my head over the past months of being terribly unwell post LEJOG. This is, I hope, the vehicle that will fundraise for the Yorkshire Haven and become my legacy. I've played with it previously but after all the things that have happened these past three years, I have decided to do it properly in a business like but charitable way. Now is the time.

Thursday, I ventured to the University of Bradford Business School. What a fabulous, fabulous place it is. I'd applied to their executive MBA programme on a part-time study basis and went along to look around the facilities, meet the staff and decide whether to be interviewed. It's been a long time since I was last interviewed for anything and I forgot as we chatted away that assessment can be and often is conducted informally. Two hours later, I was recommended as a candidate that should be offered a place and I walked out feeling like I'd arrived 'home'. Sometimes you just know, don't you? I've always wanted to do a doctorate and maybe this is the place, one day, where that dream will come through.

Friday 13th could have been awful and I didn't get to the Haven for lunch or wine o'clock but for me, at least, it was a day to receive a formal MBA offer while sat in Leeds Bradford premier lounge awaiting the evening flight to Amsterdam. My Uni mate Vikki lives somewhere unpronouncable near Schiphol airport and I've been threatening to visit her for ever. Three years since we last caught up in London, in a whoosh of dutch travel infrastructure, I was out of the airport on to a fast train to Leiden and then in a taxi, arriving just in time to read a pre (late) bed story to two excited french-dutch-english children that mix and match languages like I change my shoes. I so admire that in anyone.

We immediately set about catching up those three years over champagne and dominos pizza which is just as consistent here in the land of clogs as it is in Yorkshire and as with all Great Friendships, no matter that the years in between have been a long time, we are off and back to full throttle friends. You can't beat it for Fizz Friday.

Waking here this Saturday morning in the children's playroom, I'm disappointed there's been no tapping on the door at a terrifyingly early hour. Some of these toys look awesome but I'd look a bit strange if I got caught playing with them by myself.

 

We are off shopping later in said unpronouncable town but in the cold dark taxi drive last night, I could see that Leiden and its environs are well heeled suburbs of somewhere and it turns out that somewhere is 'Den Haag'. I've never been to the Hague before though it's a famous legal destination for a lot of infamous people. I'm really interested to see it tomorrow as my flight doesn't go back until late so I've got 48hrs in the Netherlands to enjoy.

Knowing Vik, it will be epic. Our weekends together always are. X

Yorkshire Haven Trustees Blog - Wednesday 28th December 2011

Another full morning put in at the Office with cloudless blue skies and the sun beaming down upon me. I know I said it yesterday but it's hard to fault life with this degree of loveliness all around.

Tried to move Soph's group but in a comedy of arms, fast and furious italian and forlorn faces, I gathered that this group is the only group she can be in. Seems bizarre as there are hundreds of skiers with guides but maybe as most of the runs are red and blacks, people have private lessons. It's certainly a rich person's place here. A lot of understated wealth rather than bling which gives the game silently away (if you spend all day looking as I do without skis).

Everyone came to the Office for lunch and in my new favourite place, I loved it. Talented, funny and good looking, everyone wanted to be at our table. Adjoining were four adults and a million children between two families including Rory, the stand out star, with his confident four year old fuzzy red hair and a demeanour to match. I happily predict a stunning future for him.

Our new Friends took Soph skiing in the afternoon and after a digestif, I took the cable car down for a preliminary assessment of Courmayeur proper. I say preliminary because I think its easy with ski centred towns to not really understand the equilibrium in peak ski season.  It's pretty compact, straddling one main pedestrianised street full of expensive shops though they are varied and not as completely gimmicky as you get in some places.

I browsed cheaply around, admiring one or two things but not especially taken with anything until I came across a photograph picture of Mont Blanc which took me straight back there for the first time. Perhaps because I was unwell after climbing the mountain with a raging temperature, I didn't really get a souvenir. It was also an experience that was bitter sweet. As a high heels and nail varnish Girl, I was uncomfortably way out of zone.

Anyway, I've looked since when occasion allowed, for a photograph or picture to record my terror (though the one of me at the top says it all) and I've never really felt close. This picture captures the scale though, taken from the Monte Bianco side, as if I'm stood at the top looking down and someone happened to record the moment. It's expensive though and with keen photographers in the group, I'm wondering what they think of its quality. Also, I'm going to have to get it home which will no doubt be a financial experience in its own right.

The Alpine Guide museum is interesting, recording historical equipment and images of a long and distinguished history of successful mountaineering and skiing. I enjoyed looking at the topographical representation but felt no pull for any of the lesser peaks. My time as a mountaineer is very clearly in the past.

Back at the ranch and no playmates around, I took to my bed for a siesta read. There is something about pre-dinner hours spent idle that is quite delicious when you are content. I'm reflecting upon the loss of my dearly beloved Grandma Ethel who passed away in her sleep on November 4th as I finished LEJOG. Grief is not a linear experience and I'm struggling some days more than others. One thought stood out for me - that the gap left behind by a loved one that we no longer see is what binds us tight to them. It is never filled, nor should it be, if we are to remain connected to their presence in our lives. That somehow comforted me today.

Pre-dinner bar drinks were amusing as Group Dad took it upon himself to perform the honours due to a curious lack of staff. It does seem a little odd in that way. They could make a fortune this week if they actually bothered to serve us. Food was beyond me, again. I did have salad at lunchtime and enjoyed it but just can't seem to feel like anything. At all.

Conversation flowed merrily. Sal & Dave have a photography business and some of the pictures on the I-Phone just blew me away. Inspired, original and timeless. Wow. I'm really impressed.

Tom and Noodle used to be an item but called it a draw after 8yrs, a few years ago. It's a shame as they'd clearly make a very handsome couple but growing up together can lead to being grown apart.

Sal and Noodle are joining in my trip to New York in November for my 3rd 40th Birthday Party in 2012 at the Waldorf Astoria. It's going to be fabulous.

Yorkshire Haven Trustees BLOG - Saturday 7th Jan 2012

The first week of 2012 has been a revelation. For the first time since I can remember, I didn't dread going to back to work in the New Year and the mountain of emails that used to inevitably await me. Not only no dread but I knew I had an exciting and interesting week ahead.

I had to call in to the Haven on Tuesday morning to collect my laptop and papers from our Christmas Trustee Annual Lunch (that I'd left behind as I had a client visiting and we'd gone off for dinner) but it was lovely to see the Christmas Tree still up with all our lovely Stars donated by people on behalf of loved ones. The glow of love never fades or becomes dull when we actively choose to offer and recall that love.

We have a real job to do this year at the Yorkshire Haven. We need to raise £1m to meet our annual running costs and to fulfil our wish list items which simply include providing all our services free of charge to those that need them. From where I'm sitting that isn't a wish list, it's a necessity. Need = Necessity. Where there's a Ruston will, there's normally a Ruston way. Get a strategy straight and execute it. Easy peasy.

My day job is in Education. I think I'm officially the luckiest lawyer alive. I get to work in a sector that is solely for the benefit of children and all those who wish to learn. As that includes me, arriving at my desk in Bradford on Tuesday was a pleasure not a chore. Not many lawyers would say that if you asked them, I guarantee it.

The trainee attached to my practice area is world class. I say that out loud because trainees the country over generally have a miserable time. It's sort of a rite of passage in the lawyering world. You do the photocopying and get grateful. That's how it is. Not in Education. And not where I work.

I have a fellow Partner and lawyer that has been babysitting my practice while I got going. He's a legend in his own field so you can't get fairer than that. His PA is probably the world's lovliest PA and will do anything for him, me or anyone else. Get us.

Then we have a super part-time solicitor that helps us get through our peaks. I think he would like to be retired but there's no chance of that. 2012 is going to be epic in Education with more work than we can do ourselves. It would be easy in the short term high workload peaks not to focus on a long term strategy for my practice. That, however, would be repeating my last school girl error and there's no way I'm doing that. Sustainable and balanced lifestyles require an eye on the big picture while completing the task(s) in hand.

A full day in the office, further refining and populating our battle plan spreadsheet with key data and indicators for the year ahead felt very satisfying indeed. However, one of my books over the holiday has made me decide to apply the same discipline that made me a workaholic in to a lifeaholic. If you operate your life in a disciplined way and make time for all your own essential requirements and fit work around that then you don't wind up burnt out like I did last summer. Sounds easy, doesn't it? But my name is Sarah and I'm a workaholic.

So I decided to start my year off as I intend to finish it - with some quiet time each day. I cannot do that in a work or home environment. The book suggests that you discipline yourself to go to a place that you can. Our building is opposite Bradford Cathedral and it is open all day every day. They have a daily office at 5.30pm too and so at 5.15pm I trotted across for Prayers.

It's years since I used the Book of Common Prayer. At least 20. The Priest was very considerate but as I was the only other person there to take part, it made it essential as I could barely navigate my way around. It's soothing to say words you've forgotten you know by heart.

Bradford Cathedral is an absolutely lovely place. Beautiful but not austere. Welcoming but reverential. Silent but not deafening. Prayerful but gladdening.

Afterwards the celebrant informed me that the Dean has gone on a sabbatical and I'm immediately transported to images of the Holy Land. I really do want to go there sometime soonish. Though not this year. Easter 2013.

This year is a year for commencing, consolidating and celebrating my New Life and I want to work towards that visit of a lifetime as a 'journey' in it's own right so that I can look back at what I achieved to get there though achievement will be measured differently to how I used to measure it. Doing less will be a major achievement for example. Most people who know me will be shocked by this announcement.

The rest of the working week has been spent at the North of England Education Conference at the Royal Armouries in Leeds. It has been the best conference I have ever attended. I'm inspired, enthusiastic and hopeful. The theme and focus has been 'Passion, Potential, Performance'. The speakers have been largely outstanding but at the very least good. The content has been thought provoking and engaging. The delegates friendly, committed and facing a whole sale revolution in Education. The exhibitors interesting, stimulating and kind. At it's centre though was the education of children, young people and lifelong learning and for me, eye widening and reassuring. We have a lot of very talented professionals in both academia and practice that shape our children's and our own lives. I think we are all so busy with life in these difficult economic times that we forget how essential it is as a society that the cornerstone of all our prosperity and wealth (in the widest sense of the word) is anchored well and truly safe.

We are really, really good at Education and Learning. So good, that the world over our teaching and learning professionals are largely valued above all others. We have a major worldwide export to deliver and we should be doing that internationally. That Education Revolution could yet be larger than the Industrial Revolution. If we get it right.

My place as a lawyer is as yet as a novice observer entrant. My historical skill set as a business woman and lawyer are needed as schools move in to the new age because the traditional support mechanisms are being dismantled by the Government. Not only in Education but in Healthcare. There is a lot to do. A huge amount to do actually. Lucky I like challenges.

The Royal Armouries complex is a tremendous place. I'm in awe of the development as a whole. Truly in awe. Someone's vision has really shone through. There are some mistakes in my opinion though. The car park should be free for example. The fact it isn't means people go to the White Rose centre for a day out or Meadowhall or wherever they go shopping. Just not there. A real shame as I have discovered this week. Truly a shame.

The triumph of the conference was the showcasing of Yorkshire talent. Young people sang, played, danced and joined in the entire event. It was inspired. Truly the visionary, planners and executives that made it happen deserve recognition and reward. Yorkshire did us proud.

Wrapping up Friday afternoon, I was able to take a table decoration from the gala dinner to the Haven for our reception. A stunning display prepared by the students of one of our colleges now happily decorating the post Christmas clear up which leaves us all feeling it's a little bit bare.

It is a little bit bare when you clear up and clean out all that was. But it's a time to be fresh and to put in place a new approach. The Yorkshire Haven 2012 needs help to reach its fundraising target. It needs help from everyone in Yorkshire pulling together to make it happen. Perhaps my optimism is inspired by what I have seen and heard this week but I do know this last thought for the week.

We none of us know what we are capable of, as long as we believe anything is possible.

X

Yorkshire Haven Trustees BLOG - Tuesday 2nd January 2012

You never sleep all that well when you know that missing an alarm is not an option. I didn't even hear Francesco go to bed at 6am this morning because my trusty alarm clock had realised I heard him the other day and has started being quiet! Not that I needed it all week as I was awake but only because the 5am training hour is not a time for training at this time but it is still the hour of waking. And probably so for life.

We were due our transfer collection at 7.10am but I defy anyone to raise a 13yr old for that time on a morning without a scene. Sending her back to the baby shop for a refund is not an option and normally the comedy Damien child would be amusing but I could have done without her waking the whole hotel in protest and teenage temper tantrum. I guess some things from 2011 will be no different in 2012.

We cut a weary bunch but Tomka Toy made our Crystal Rep's day by presenting him with 2/3rds of a bottle of Vodka. His Newkie Boy grin was wider that a Newkie Brown Ale Bottle with teeth so white they caught the light of the millions of lights spread in every tree in Courmayeur. Guess he was pleased then.

The transfer is easy and relatively painless, particularly if you are on a coach and not crammed in to a taxi or minibus with less than half the spaces taken. A time to catch the sunrise as it caught the plateau or take a snooze. Less than two hours later we were delivered safely to Turin Airport Turmoil. Hell hath no fury than hundreds of revolving flights taking its cathartic cargo back to replenish with freshly fuelled fodder.

I officially hate airports after too many hundreds of check ins and arrivals and security and passport control and crap design and crap management and lest it go on, you get the idea. I wish I had started a performance indicator table for airports years ago because by now, I'd have got a mean assessment results table with which to beat the hell out of airport departure taxes. Some of them would be closed if they were schools or hospitals for being officially, totally rubbish. As if you can charge people in a service industry for that.

But today is not a day for being bothered to care though I do warn Group Dad that getting to the Gate is a mistake if you have not shopped, ate, toiletted or lost the will to stand like cattle without enough seats for the two hours pre departure where you have passed go and no one is allowed back for fear of something. If I could figure out what Turin airport is so scared of, I'd make them rich.

Ah well. Time to take in the varying shapes and sizes, families, couples and general debris of relationships, friendships, injuries and apathy that make going home so special. I work out by a process of over analysis that as they have sent all the UK flights to the far end of the airport it's actually pretty obvious what they are scared of. The English. They can't refresh us at this time on a morning - no cafes, bars or pubs - or they choose not to refresh us. Mmm. Who says the spaghetti wars are not alcohol fuelled.

Our flight is almost on time leaving although with a full flight of people, skis, boots and general guff taking off in a northern direction, in order to avoid a close encounter with Mont Blanc that is unplanned, we have to route round in a large circle to get enough height to take it on. They even unpacked the hot food and litre bottles of spirits to make sure. Bless.

The captain and 1st officer were jolly. A bit too jolly. I'd personally rather rely on their judgment than know what decisions they need to make to get us home safely but as most people are slothing, snoozing or generally being vacant due to a nice long week skiing, too much food, too much drink or generally just too much, I seem to be a silent silly billy so I keep quiet.

Soph has become boisterous in her mission to down the twenty five coke bottles that she would have to have surrendered to Italian customs. No way she could get them home in our cases. Her new outfit took up her case as it was. I copped for most of her kit anyway so she thought the best thing to do was make haste. I could, I know, have tried to stop her but frankly I'm a wee bit unwell and can't be bothered with the scene. If she feels sick, she might nor do it again.

Manchester is such an unsavoury airport. I think it every single time. It has this 'seen better days' look that no amount of cleaning could now alter. It looks shabby because it is shabby. Bizarre really that it is now effectively a northern UK hub for amazing middle east airports like Dubai, Doha and Abbu Dhabi en route to the rest of the world. I wish someone would really take to it with a fresh vigour and enthusiasm. It should be world class. Not jaded.

We leave our New Friends at the carousel and before we even got to the Radisson to collect the car, both Soph & I are proper missing them. Funny how sometimes you feel a fit and probably don't realise it fully until they are gone.

But out drive back to Yorkshire is light, airy and relatively straight forward. A lot of traffic around the sales shoppers at out of town retail parks but I guess the shops are pleased about that. I always feel that Little House on the Prairie welcomes me back home due to the many times I have passed it over the last 20yrs but it has a peculiar vulnerability and like many millions of motorists over the years, I always wonder what the owner feels like now.

A lavender bath and a siesta assuage my bodily bad behaviour and a catch up Eastenders reveals the Epic Matriarch that is Pat Butcher has died. I don't know anyone that doesn't love or loath her character but as with all Great Personalities, it is the depth of her loss that is felt more tenderly than the number of complaints. She has been part of my life for 25yrs and I did shed a tear at those final scenes in her In Mem programme. How can you not? Who could replace her?

Back to work tomorrow and a good work week ahead. The Yorkshire Haven reopens for 2012 tomorrow and I'm relieved. Home is Home.

Yorkshire Haven Trustees Blog - New Year's Eve 2011

Awaking to a huge dump of snow overnight and continuing sleet made me fear a repetition of yesterday's first lift drama. Health & Safety must be on annual leave at the station. One of the three lifts had its doors open and you could have stepped straight in to the void. I didn't but there's something that always make me want to peer down and then up. I have no idea why.

There was a repetition of chaotic crowd control but today I'd already sussed out how to beat the stampede. Careful observation of expert ski guides showed where to stand and to be on guard, ready for the signal that they had finished dressing the slopes and we could go up to ski school.

Soph was late again but went off with Laurent anyway. Rakishly handsome youngish Italian. Mmm.. let me think that one through some other time. Someone said to be recently 'You're going to have trouble with that one, Dolly'. I'm only too  aware that at thirteen but already on her way to six feet, looking like a young Sophia Lauren with a main of dark hair and a personality to match, there is indeed likely to be trouble ahead. Guaranteed.

Group ski school commenced but we all had lunch around a big table at the back and as usual, I whiled away another day at the Office in a very pleasant way. By now all the staff know me by first name and I've become a fixture and fitting, moving around through the day to help ensure their revenue maximisation. I don't mind. I just love watching the people, the banter, the chatter and the vast amounts of food and drink being served during the day. It must be an absolute gold mine though no one minds paying for good food, served quickly with lashings of beer.

The Group are starting to get tired. It's hard going out there and this is day 5 of skiing so lethargy is starting to creep in, irritated by the lack of lifts open due to the conditions. Still, this is New Year's Eve and they give it their all. Then they all frequent the American Bar and Bar Rosa which became Group Locals this week.

As dinner doesn't start until after the pumkin hour tonight, I know I need to get some sleep to have any chance of welcoming in the New Year awake. Three solid hours later and then we are assembled in the lobby for drinks and fun. Francesco and Luigi are in charge of party central and have arranged the bar for a dancing party post gala dinner. I'd swear they have got out Grandma's record player and Luigi is all geared up to DJ. A man of many talents.

Maria is all dolled up as Queen Mum and by now, even though her english is worse than my Italian, we have become friends. She pronounced my dress 'Bellisimo'. I didn't bother to tell her is was Monsoon vintage. They don't seem to do less than designer brands in these parts.

The Gala Dinner is a relatively raucous affair. The food is sensational though I'm having a bad day on the eating stakes and don't do it justice. Mind you, it would take someone with a pretty monumental appetite to do this standard and amount of food justice.

We have a lovely evening and I do make it to New Year. Just. In swirls of grandiose kisses all around the room, everyone forgets we are british and kisses everyone the Italian way. Two is better than one though I like the Spanish three best (if I'm honest).

I leave my new Friends to dance and party the night away with Soph a little after midnight, relieved that 2011 is dead and gone. It was the worst year of my life so far and I couldn't wait to see the back of it.

Now 2012 though. Hurrah. The first year of the rest of my New Life and the year of my 40th festivities and 'gap' year. Wow. It's going to be fantastic. I've made up my mind to make sure.

Happy New Year.

Yorkshire Haven Trustees Blog - Friday 30th December 2011

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

An absolutely colossal snow dump overnight meant the first lift didn't open up to ski school until 9am and in the ryanair school of Italian queueing it was never going to be anything other than a monumental tug of war once it did.

Eventually up at the Office the view is slightly different - total snow outlook. The beauty of the mountains and trees swirling in snow is unsurpassed on days like this. You just cannot capture in photographs the essence of it but I could sit and look at it for life.

Ski school had to start an hour late and Soph's private lesson was cancelled in the chaos. We sat inside Christiana and she messaged the universe on her blackberry while I got on with my work. Eventually Group Dad showed up to assess the situation and was about to call it an early day when Billy Boy, Sal and Dave turned up and they all decided to try a few runs. I have to say that I think they are mental. Practically everyone coming down the blue run in to ski school was falling in the deep drifts.

Naturally the Office got a bit crowded, loud and jolly. You meet all sorts of people who are also not skiing. Often they have been injured in a fall and it has knocked their confidence. I once sustained a hard head knock in La Tania where in Bridget Jones fashion I proved the Sarah Ruston No. 1 Rule of Skiing - that it is possible to ski faster uphill than downhill when fabulously out of control down an icy steep red. Funny for the film but it ended my private confidence battle with my head and I officially gave up any desire to ski there and then.

It hasn't though stopped me enjoying watching everyone else pretend that ski boots and skis are comfortable, fun and enjoyable. The absolute rigmarole of the whole thing is totally ridiculous. Soggy, drippy, freezing people that keep going back out for more. I'm sorry but I can't do the maths as to why anyone would want to risk their lives on two planks (or one for that matter) when they can walk around on the service roads perfectly well on two steady feet.

Eventually my logic outed when Noodle and Tonka Toy turned up with Group Dad and Soph for a raucous lunch. As officially Christiana's best customer of the week I secured a table for 8 which is a feat of modern ingenuity in this place because the food is so good. It is officially the best food I've ever had skiing and you can't say fairer than that.

In the end, I gave up half the table to an Italian-English group which was good fun as they mixed and matched their language and we four squashed around the end for the best half pizza I've ever shared. Noodle agreed. Christiana will never get a Michelin star because it is uncomplicated food but what it does do should get a Ski Food equivalent. I cannot recommend it enough.

Our mini-group decided to call it a draw and go down the hill. We couldn't raise a lift from Luigi back to the hotel and the free ski bus was also on siesta so we took refuge in the hotel at the bottom of the lift which has the most lovely bar. It turns out to have the most lovely rooms and spa too. Gordon Bennett. I felt lucked out. I'd tell you the name but it only has 40 rooms and I fancy booking myself.

Group Dad, Noodle and Tonka Toy got a booking in the spa so we hailed a taxi to return us to the hotel and I took to my bed for a nod or two. Waking at 6.30pm I felt a whole lot better than I have all week and changed for dinner.

I thought they were all out in town as I rounded up Luigi to make me an illegal G&T. I know free pouring is an art. Here it is half and half in a pint glass and you only need one to get you going. Trust me. It cannot possibly meet the 20,000 EU regulations that deal with alcohol but as I'm on holiday, I don't care. 

The Group were all there though gazing at their phones to a man, as if in some semi-comatose state. My goodness, not in the zone at all. Alcohol rationing has clearly been introduced while I was asleep.

Day 4 sloth and slumber induced by over extending ones physical capacity for exercise in deep snow and binge drinking in all but the Minors cases means they are all feeling like sleeping. Only for once, I'm hot to trot - until the pumpkin hour anyway.

Wondering whether the Spaghetti War would ensue we were almost first in to dinner. Now that is new. No sign of the enemy though. They checked out this morning but apparently the armistice was signed with smiles, hugs and kisses last night at the bar after I had pumpkinised at my normal hour. Ha. The English know how to win a battle. And a Spaghetti War.

I managed a bit of each course of dinner. The food is a bloody legend, if only I could eat very much of it. Maria makes a mean anything, even if she can't staff the bar. I managed to get to cheese at the end which is a triumph of eating compared to the whole week so far and retire almost last to finish another short piece of writing entitled 'On death and Dying'. I don't think contemplating mortality is morbid. Actually, I think it is essential. Life is short and we have to get on with it at a pace that is astonishing.

As I recently killed the pace and realised a whole day is a really long time, I have been reflecting upon what I want from the rest of my life. Being so ill with this hyperthermia and my bad back has seen me feeling very, very rotten indeed.

Hyperthermia can kill you. It probably won't but it might. It focuses you in a way that is hard to exaggerate. It makes you feel like dying would be a release from being so unwell. I have never felt this unwell before so had no idea how unwell it is possible to feel.

But I'm feeling increasingly better on a day to day basis, bad bouts not withstanding. Starting a new job has also been a stress even though I love it already. So I will see out New Year's Eve tomorrow with a clean, clean sheet on every front and I've made some interesting decisions this past week about what I want my future to look like. It can't be more exciting. But first there is a time to sleep.

Yorkshire Haven Trustees Blog - Thursday 29th December 2011

It was snowing at the Office this morning as we finally made it to the top after a tiresome half hour wait for the bus. Soph was obviously late for her private lesson as she is late for everything. No sense of urgency that child. So 'chillaxed' as she would say I barely recognise her genetic mix. Reassuring though. I could never be an air traffic controller.

Unfortunately I suffered a severe bout of hyperthermia and only managed an hour before calling Group Dad to rescue Soph from me. Retiring to the hotel via the lovely chemist shop with a potion I prayed would help, I spent the day feeling sorry for myself in bed. Too unwell to even read, I had to gaze at the mountains until the medicine kicked in and I started to feel able to move.

Contemplating your inner thoughts is sometimes challenging when in a strange place and without familiar comforts around. Your mind can wander to places that are painful and dark. We all have those places and tend to avoid them. I know I always tend to avoid them anyway.

Something I learned this year is that I need to get some of the stuff out. I find it hard to talk about my feelings and thoughts but I can get it out in writing. Some people go fishing. Some people paint pictures, knit, sew, garden or all the above. Writing always was my refuge before work and children. I'd forgotten that until my counsellor suggested I tried to write out a timeline as a way of opening up my story.

Then of course, the Haven PR lady said I had to the LEJOG blog which I duly did and it seemed to entertain all my supporters. I found it incredibly cathartic at the end of each lonely, tired, struggling day to get out some of the thoughts and feelings I was having as I cycled 1000 miles.

Simon Coach said it was probably the result of going solo. Doing challenges in groups has other difficulties but at least you know that what you are going through is the same for someone else and that is oddly comforting. Plus we all have ups and downs and usually in group challenges you all meet one another's downs with your ups. And vice versa.

By 3pm I felt a lot better and have a short piece of writing called 'Heart Break' to show for it. It is probably my best ever attempt to reconcile a very painful experience. Then I was up, showered, changed and down to the bar where Maria wandered in from time to time to see if anyone wanted a drink. We did, of course, but she doesn't seem all that bothered about taking our money which is odd. But I think I mentioned that before.

A pre-dinner G&T worked it's magic, refreshing all known parts and then the Group all wandered back from painting the town in absynth. Noodle refused a drink with dinner which amused me a lot. We sailed in last to a full dining room having scared our lovely Crystal Rep witless with banter and repartee that could have been rather more choice.

With the benefit of hindsight what happened next should have been predictable. As a Group we are noisy. As in very. There is a lot of micky taking and laughter. I haven't laughed this much in ages. I guess for the people around us, you either like it or you don't.

Right from the off, the group on the table next to us were giving us the evils. I mean serious toe curling evils. Bizarre. Mind you their average age was 60 and more perma-tan and wrinkled than your average ski-instructor. The problem was that Noodle and Billy Boy were copping them with Sal and me having our backs to them.

It started to upset them both and I could see that things could get out of hand very quickly so I decided to take a Group Executive Decision and deal with it head on. Maria found Luigi and I lead him in to the dining room and complained very loudly that their behaviour was unacceptable and upsetting and I was most displeased in that calm english way we have in a crisis that really winds up other nations.

Super-small, over sized, ancient perma tan man motors straight up to weigh in to the discussion which entertained the whole restaurant but I won because he went and sat back down and Luigi gave me a kiss on the hand and agreed with my suggestion that our table is moved tomorrow night.

Unfortunately Group Dad and Tonka Toy decided to retire to the bar citing embarrassment whereas Sal thought I'd done the right thing. I know I did the right thing. A spaghetti fight would have ensued and that would have been amusing but I'd like to come back to this hotel in the future and didn't fancy getting blacklisted by Crystal.

Pumpkin hour hit and I retired to a fabulous night's sleep and looking forward to today. It's not every day you get kissed on the hand by handsome Italian man of about the right age. No doubt he is married with children. They always are. But you can dream....

   

Yorkshire Haven Trustees Blog - Tuesday 27th December 2011

I've got a new daily office. The Christiana Albergo Restaurant and Pizzeria at Plan Checrouit on the Italian side of Mont Blanc has a terrace that overlooks Courmayeur at the back. Sat here at my desk with a cappucino and a morning's reading while Soph is in ski school in sunshine, blue skies and millions of children all whizzing past is simply divine. Hard not to feel peaceful, happy and lucky. I've already decided to spend every morning of the next six days right here 'working'. It will do me through the next few months of Yorkshire winter. We had lunch here together and giggled through all the people watching. Soph has a good eye as a mimic and you have to laugh at her commentary.

We didn't find our new friends group so decided to pack up and go back down to Courmayeur. Found ourselves writing postcards at a lovely little bar on the main roundabout and then expertly navigated to a supermarket so Soph could buy all the rubbish food that she 'needs' to propel Lady Long Legs around the pistes. She has been allocated to a group way below her competency which she isn't loving much at all - bossy, show off, leading a tribe....

At this stage, I realised we couldn't manage all the shopping and my laptop bag and reading bag and handbag, Soph's bag, camera, helmet and general guff so I make an executive decision to 'borrow' the wheelie basket for the mile walk back to the hotel. We must have looked a slightly extraordinary sight as we pootled back but I didn't care. Until I suddenly thought that perhaps Italy doesn't use the same definition for theft as we do in Blighty. Oops. Could do without being arrested for stealing. On the other hand my back is so painful, it wouldn't take a lot for me to bring out the hysterics in my defence.

Apres ski at the hotel is a rather unspectacular affair. The lovely manager/owner clearly isn't used to the english propensity to down beers swiftly with a lot of laughter. I always forget how noisy I am compared to the rest of the world but next to Soph I'm a picture of quiet. You get the idea. We soon livened the place up.

Sal, Billy, Dave, Tom, Nessa and Neil all arrived back a little later to get the party truly started and digest the day's skiing. Obviously, I couldn't add much but I could add a suggestion that on Sunday, the party skiis the Valley Blanche with a guide. I'd go up on the Cable Car and see them in Chamonix. Not bad for New Year's Day I reckon. I have a feeling we will ski with these guys for years to come. Such a lovely, lovely group of individual characters. Fate takes you to some great places and people sometimes.

Dinner was fabulous but I didn't get as far as the main course. Food is still a struggle. Luckily the house red wine seems fizzy but goes down a treat. Unfortunately, I cannot drink as in my youth and when the Jaegermeisters came out, I should have known things would get a bit tricky. Luckily Soph sent me to bed as it was long past my pumpkin hour (8pm) and managed to persuade me in to a fantastic night's sleep.

I woke this morning feeling more like myself than in ages. A slight sore throat feels a whole load better than how I've been feeling with the hyperthermia. Waking at 5am is 6am here so that's a nice calm start to lovely long days. The sunrise turned the mountains behind Entreves pink this morning. It got Soph out of bed to take a picture which has come out looking orange but was definitely pink. You couldn't have made me smile more. My Baby Girl is a wonder and set against the Italian mountains, I can only pray that she isn't discovered too young. I want her to be 13 for ever.

Yorkshire Haven Trustees 2012 Blog - Tuesday 27th December 2011

I'm so glad Deb Hope told me I looked like I needed a holiday a few weeks ago. I was en route to buy some music for songs to sing at my Grandma's funeral from Shearers and happened to pass the Coop travel agent in the precinct in Leeds City Centre. About five minutes later, I'd booked a holiday for my family to fly from Manchester to Turin and a week half board in a hotel in Courmayeur.

As the plane descended, I caught my first glimpse of Mont Blanc since standing on top of it in August 2009. I can't believe I did it although I know I did. It was an extraordinary experience.

I've never been on a package ski holiday before so it's pleasant to have everything laid on and organised and just be able to go with the flow. Ski trips can be quite stressy otherwise.

Unfortunately, my son Tom decided not to come skiing so it's just Soph and me. We arrived starving and decided to take lunch in the hotel restaurant. It was full of loud italian families doing battle. We only managed a starter but the pasta was absolutely terrific. Tasty and super in a ridiculously huge portion. We got buddied up in a minibus going to ski hire with a group of six from Manchester and soon decided to join their party. It was a slight expedition in to the hills to get Soph's skis sorted but we all braved it together and sealed lifelong friendship over a round of pints in an adjoining bar after everyone got kitted out. I've found my home for the week (as I can't ski due to a bad back) but I've got writing, reading and plotting to do and it won't be too hard given the tremendous views and lovely staff. The group are going to take Soph out in an afternoon after her morning ski school lessons so I've got six non-working days to enjoy at leisure in fresh air, sunshine and blue skis. The first pictures are all taken from our room windows. You can't say fairer than that!

The Hotel Dei Camosci is small but beautifully formed. It's a family run affair with a nice bar, nice restaurant and nice staff. A formidable matriarch would appear to be in charge (or like to think she is) in one of those immaculately coiffered, perfectly tailored suit Italian woman sort of looks that you need to be Italian to pull off. I tell you what, I wouldn't mess with her.

Meeting at Bar Rosa to be given our resort briefing, gave us a glimpse of the cobbled centre street. Perfectly lovely with a glorious Christmas Tree lit up with thousands of silver lights. Simply stunning.

Navigating a route back in the dark was fun. We had no idea where we were but found the hotel eventually and had a few beers in the bar and dinner. I had to call it a day pretty early (as usual) but left Soph with her new friends to finish dinner. She did a great job of looking after me today which made me happy. Very happy indeed.