Diary of a Chalet Girl pt 2: And then… Morzine, France

I’m not gunna lie, this post is 3 sodding months overdue. And as a result of that, it has become a condensed summary of the last four weeks of my mini season in Morzine (inconveniently punctuated by photos that have nearly nothing to do with the text, but which highlight nicely what I may or may not have got up to). Enjoi 🐼

Those of you who read the last two posts are now very aware of how much I can and will cry when engaging in moderate aerobic exercise. And those of you who continue to read my posts will notice that I have not become a rock solid mass of rippling muscles just because I did some exercise. Y THO?!

Note: It’s probs all the cake.

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So most of my acquaintances would claim that my misadventures started with a skinful of alcohol, but joke’s on them because I’m just a mess of a human being whatever level of drunk I am.

Happy Hours on a Wednesday was a fucking delight and I drank enough death punch (at €5 a pint) to obliterate three livers. So on a weekly basis, you could find me peeing in the woods, kissing girls and dancing on tables. Standard.

Evenings consisted of getting mashed in the Black Bear after watching YouTube videos of classic songs ruined by primary school orchestras. It was here that I met a moose head and the line…

…was born.

In the last couple of weeks I attended multiple hot tub parties in my knickers with nothing but a penguin onesie to walk home in a la matin and at which we may or may not have abused a sauna. With bottles of bubbly. Don’t hate us ’cause you didn’t think of hot boxing yourself with prosecco fumes first.

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I have only one thing to say about the next two items… #freethenips

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Work hours were uneventful but split between two chalets; Belvedere in the morning and Long Shit (just kidding, fave chalet ❤️) in the evening. Apart from renaming our squeaky microwave after a memorably needy guest, hardly anything of real momentousness happened. That was until I stumbled across a small baggy of something suspicious while cleaning out the freezer. Spoiler alert: was not oregano; was particularly pungent upon defrosting.

Then suddenly the last day came around and while my t-shirt tan began to flourish, as I baked myself on our staff accom balcony, I made the decision to return…

For the next year of my life.

Dun dun duuuun.

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