Glowing...

Firstly a quick reminder that Sam Jackson's Secret Video Diary is now available for download here. Pay as much or as little as you like, and while you're about it, you can download Beyond Fiction, the documentary about the making of the mockumentary. As you are all my friends/family/aquaintances/randoms who read my blog I'm sure you want to support me and my friends by doing so! Thank you very much.

Secondly - and I can't believe it's taken me a week to tell you guys about this, given my natural urge to show off at any opportunity - but I have been voted Employee of the Week (Inside Category) here at Sunshine. Not bad for my first month, eh?! It stemmed from an incident involving two Senior Alpine Ski Clubbers who left their skis near our ticket windows and I found them and took them back to their hotel for them, so they could ski at another ski hill the following day. They were very grateful and I got a $10 tip! I'm not exactly sure who put nominations in the Employee of the Month box on my behalf (although I know one of them was Zander, who I roped in under duress to help me carry them to the hotel). Apparently they have a committee of Supervisors who take all the nominations throughout Sunshine (approx. 800 employees), as well as all the comments that come into our website, and vote on who they think deserves the title. Then the winners (there are several categories, Inside, Outside, Behind the Scenes etc.) get invited to a swanky dinner prepared by our head chef (apparently it's amazing food) and prizes, which consists (I think) of a trail sign with our name on it. Can't wait for the dinner, which is on Jan 4th - will post pictures natch.

Sick talk

Hanging out with teenagers and other young whippersnappers tends to have an effect on your outlook, social habits and, significantly, the language you use. However, you have to bear in mind that there are some phrases that you can really only get away with if you're 19, or Australian. Whilst I'm perfectly comfortable discussing the merits of 'shredding the gnar', 'stacking it' and shouting 'hell yeah!' every time someone asks me a question, the correct use of the word 'sick' still escapes me; it just sounds perfectly ridiculous in my little Surrey accent and actually manages to make me feel twice as old as I already am. Yesterday I went shopping with my flatmates (Boxing Day sales - I bought tons in Gap naturally) and when one of them came over to me wearing a black hoodie with skull motif he was thinking of buying, I tried it out by saying 'Man that's fully sick!', but then totally ruined the effect by following it up with '...and I mean that in a good way'.

My friends just suggested if I get a gangsta hoodie, wear a baseball cap and tone down the accent and I'll totally pull it off. I'm dubious.

O Come All Ye Beaver

Christmas Day began at 06.30 (okay, okay, I realise it actually begun at 00.00, but humour me) when I dragged my sorry arse out of bed to skype with the family back home, who were opening presents at Jenny's. I was amazed to discover the present I'd sent Liddi only just over a week before had made it back to England in time for Christmas - must be a bloody record for the Canadian post! Nice to speak to everyone back home. Back at the Beaver, despite the early hour, Christmas songs were being played loudly and much singing was to be heard. I was slipping into my red one-piece, which Kate had bought in a rummage sale, and with which I had fallen in love, both for it's retro-styley and its festive connotations. Laura, Kate, Ed & I took the early bus to Sunshine and more Carols were sung, enthusiasm as standard, in the gondola up to the village.

Ed & I had the breakfast buffet then joined Kate & Laura on the slopes, though somehow we managed to misplace Ed immediately and not see hide nor hair of him again till we got home. Expecting that, after over 2 weeks off, it would take me a bit of time to find my ski-legs, so I did my first run by myself to avoid embarrassment. On doing so, I discovered that Santa had somehow given me the ability to ski fast and without fear in my Christmas stocking! I bombed down and joined the girls, brimming with confidence. A few runs later, we found ourselves looking at a black run as we soared above it on the chair lift and decided, perhaps somewhat rashly, that it really didn't look too bad... We nailed it! Well, kinda. I did face-plant fairly hard on a giant mogul I didn't see coming and lay there for several minutes wondering if I did still have all my teeth (I did), but we all got down in one piece and had a ball doing so, which is, after all, the whole point.

In the afternoon, after picking up my newly commissioned trail sign, hilarously emblazoned with the moniker 'Massive Beaver', Laura & I headed back down in the gondola to get a head start on Christmas dinner. On the way down we passed a gondola operator sat in her little booth which had a sign in the window saying 'Christmas waves please!' Naturally Laura & I obliged enthusiastically and I then decided to hold my trail sign up to the window to try to get a laugh. I picked up the sign...and whacked Laura straight in the face with it. As I shouted 'Omigod I'm so sorry, I hit you in the face with my massive beaver!' we collapsed and laughed so hard that by the time we reached the bottom station, we could barely exit the gondola. Practically crawling and gasping for breath, I tried to explain to the gondola operator who was removing Laura's skis why we were laughing but just couldn't get the words out. He looked at me strangely and merely said 'Please exit to your left', leaving Laura & I in more fits.

Arrived back home to prepare food. My banoffi pie and my lime & ginger cheesecake had been made the previous evening but we still had 2 stuffed turkey breasts and a huge joint of beef to be cooked, yorkshire pudding to make, cauliflower cheese to prepare, potatoes to peel, parboil and roast, vegetables to steam and gravy to make. Phew! However, with a little help from my friends, we got it all done and proceeded to eat ourselves into a stupor, whilst watching A Muppets' Christmas Carol. The Secret Santa followed - my present was a floating penis bath plug (how did they know?) - and we all played with our new toys for a bit. My puddings went down a treat as usual (not wishing to blow my own trumpet of course*) and by 11pm, we were all falling asleep in post-gastronomic bliss, not a crumb of food left. So much for my Boxing Day bubble & squeak plans, but the whole day was so awesome; I'm certainly not complaining...

Full photos here.

*Toot toot!

T-6

So the big countdown commences. Not to Christmas (though that's coming up at some point too, or so I'm led to believe). No, the countdown to the big release of Sam Jackson's Secret Video Diary. This was the last film I made with some friends of mine and if you don't remember me telling you the story behind the film being made, I suggest you check out the website (particularly 'The True Story' page) for the whole strange tale. The director Guy Ritchie - oops sorry Rowland - is writing a blog about the release (he's reality media-crazy!) so you can check that out here.

On Friday 28th December, the film, alongside a documentary detailing the back story, will be available for download from the website in a pay-as-much-as-you-like-Radiohead-styley (who's fabulous High & Dry is featured on the soundtrack). It is the first film to ever be released in this way! Yay us! Please download it (should only take around 15 mins on a good connection) and if you like it, do make a donation, as 20% of the proceeds will go to Leukaemia Research and Missing Persons charities respectively.

Finally, Guy will be talking about the film and the historic release on Radio 5 Live at about 07.55 on launch day, Friday 28th December. You can listen live or Listen Again, as is your wont!

Go on, you know you want to.

God Hates The World...apparently

Wow. I don't know about you, but I find this absolutely fascinating to watch, because I find it amazing that people will believe almost anything given the right amount of brainwashing. Make sure you watch the last 20 seconds for a perfect example of what I mean...


http://view.break.com/278059 - Watch more free videos

Sir has a firm touch, but very fair...

If anyone is still wondering what to get me for Christmas*, this is pretty much my ideal gift. What a way to wake up. *sigh*

*I do know no one is actually buying me a present and that's fine because I'm a long way away and I can't afford to buy anyone anything either.

Christmas Beaver

Errmmm... it appears to be the 17th December. That's just over a week till Christmas. How the hell did that happen? Despite the snow and twinkly lights, it's very easy to miss that it's Christmas here, what with us all just working and skiing/snowboarding all the time, though to give her credit where it's due, Laura has done a sterling job of trying to Christmasfy the Beaver with the fake tree and decorations we found behind the sofa. Zander & I spent the other day at work desperately trying to find out if we could buy an actual beaver to roast for Christmas dinner, but sadly it seems it's not going to be possible. Still, we had a whole day of 'eating beaver' jokes, which was some comfort at least*. I found some great recipes for beaver stuffed with pork***.

I'm supposed to have done some online Christmas shopping for home, which I thought I had plenty of time to do, but it seems I don't. I just ordered 2 presents for my nephews, thinking I had got in under the Xmas deadline, but it seems in my confirmation email that I haven't. Darn it. Sorry boys. Have sent Liddi (my niece) something from here but knowing the Canadian post, it won't arrive until around February, so better get something else sorted too. Oh and I've got a Secret Santa, which the Aussies apparently call a Kris Kringle by the way, to buy for the Beaver Massive.

I probably ought to stop sitting around and actually get on with it then!

*The thing I love about living on Beaver** is that beaver jokes only ever get funnier the more you tell them
**See?
***Oh stop it, you're killing me!

Bad/good

Been really pissed off for the last week or so as the injury I referred to in my last ski-based post, which caused me to fall over whenever I turned, has been getting progressively worse and I've been unable to ski since then. It's basically the ligament just to the back of my left knee that I've managed to strain, and even walking has been very painful. Today it began to feel a bit better...until I had to run for the bus this afternoon and it throbbed all the way home. So I'm trying to give it time to recover before I get back on the slopes, which has been enormously frustrating, as I'm desperate to keep practising. Still. Got to be sensible.

On a more positive note, a few days ago, about 15 mins before I left work, I got a call from a hotel in Banff where a Senior's Alpine Ski Club were staying. They'd been to Sunshine and two of the women had left their skis and poles outside our ticket windows. I popped out and found them and, after several confused conversations about how we could return them to the women (who were off to a different ski hill the following day), I decided to take them back there myself, as it wasn't too far from where I live in Banff. I roped Zander in to help me cart them back and handed them into the hotel reception. Job's a good 'un. Today, Sheila, one of the women, called my work to thank me and to ask where she could send me a 'tip'! I protested feebly before giving her my address and we wished each other a Merry Christmas. How sweet.

Stampeding to Calgary

Chris, Amy, Gravy & I hired a car today, getting a sweet deal from our housemate Kevin who works for Budget, and road tripped over to Calgary to buy...well, loads of stuff to be honest. Living in a resort town don't come cheap, so you need the big city to get essentials at a reasonable price. Our first stop was Wal-Mart, where I bought a few grocery items - cornflakes were 2 bucks cheaper than Safeways in Banff for example - and some jersey sheets. Mmmm. As I may have mentioned before, once you've slept on jersey, you never go back.

We headed off to have lunch with some friends of Gravy's and arrived about 10 minutes before them. Lethal. Next door to the restaurant was the Ski Cellar, a mecca for my new obsession with ski wear. 10 minutes later a new pair of ski pants in bright green were mine, for a bargain price...compared to how much they were to begin with, that was. Believe me, you don't want to know. But I live in a ski resort and when I'm not working, I'm skiing, so I think I can justify the investment*.

However, our main task of the day was to go to Ikea, where I intended to buy a duvet. In Canada, people use flat sheets under something called a 'comforter', which is basically a thin synthetic duvet with a fixed and often lurid cover, with possibly a blanket over the top. It's bloody rubbish. Firstly, it's not warm enough, particularly for a winter where temperatures can go down to -30. Secondly, as anyone who is old enough to remember England before duvets became the norm, you invariably wake up with the sheet squished over onto once side, the comforter over to the other, and the rough woollen blanket fallen off the bottom of the bed. Thirdly, thin synthetic duvets do not cover you properly, they just lie over the top of you and create cold gaps either side of you. Last night I was freezing all night so today I practically ran round Ikea in order to buy myself a lovely down duvet.

Naturally they didn't have the cheap one I wanted, nor did they have the slightly more expensive one in the size I wanted, so I ended up spending $72 on a king size, but still, 36 quid for the pleasure of being warm and comfortable at night for the next 5 months is a bargain if you ask me. I had planned to buy a cheap duvet cover - they had a rather unpleasant yellow circley designed one at $12.99 - but spotted a jersey duvet cover in green, which I was naturally unable to resist, despite it being a fair bit more expensive. I also bought a couple of packs of twinkly lights, one red, one green, to put round my windows to make it a little more festive. I hope you like the effect. My room rocks.

After Ikea we went to the Chinook Centre, a big shopping mall, where we planned to go to the IMAX cinema to see Beowulf in 3D. We bought our tickets before browsing round the shops, and returned to discover that, irritatingly in the extreme, they had sold us tickets to the wrong showing. The IMAX 3D version had started half an hour before, and we had tickets to the regular version. The boys were devastated to miss the opportunity to see Angelina Jolie's gold nipples side-swiping their faces, naturally.

The film was purest comedy gold. I'm fairly sure it wasn't supposed to be a comedy, but we laughed our arses off all the way through it. If it wasn't for Ray Winstone's East London accent saying "I'm Beowulf, and I've come to kill your monstaaaahhh", or Beowulf's penchant for removing all his clothes before he fought said monstaaaahhh, necessitating a whole 10 minute sequence where something was always placed strategically in front of his - ahem - tackle, it was Angelina Jolie performing a particular act upon a sword with an inevitable, slightly messy, and surprisingly graphic conclusion. Well worth seeing: 9 out of 10 for comedy value, though only 2 out of 10 for achieving the original aim. My private theory however, particularly given the abundance of British actors in the film, is that they decided to see how utterly ridiculous they could make the film, and still get the Americans to buy into it completely.

Oh, just a quick update before I publish this: I slept last night on my jersey sheets/duvet combo and it was purest heaven.

*I'm doing a good job of justifying this to myself, aren't I?

Shredding the gnar

Whenever the boys go snowboarding, they tell us they're going to 'shred the gnar'. Well, today, Amy & I may not have shredded the gnar, but we certainly agitated it a little. Kicked it around a bit with our toes, as it were. We stuck mainly to green runs but did go up Lookout Mountain on the Continental Divide lift (which crosses into British Columbia and back to Alberta on the journey!) and discovered there were only blue runs, so we did that too. Unfortunately when I stacked it on Angel the other day I hurt my leg, which had been fine during the easy runs, but when I was trying to carve sharply across the run to control my speed on the steep downhill, I found it became really painful and ended up giving way on several occasions. Annoying, because I actually felt up to the task in other respects. Anyway, good runs: good funs, or something like that. And would you look at the views?

Xmas nut run

Forgive me, but I'm a leeeeetle bit drunk. It was the staff Christmas party up on the hill tonight and, though it wasn't exactly brilliant, I felt in the mood for a drink or two. I've actually had 4 gin and tonics, but I'm fairly sure they were all watered down because I should be far drunker on 4 gins than I am. Anyway, that aside.

My supervisor, Pat, decided at some point in the evening that he might fancy doing a 'nut run'. This involved him running naked, in only his shoes and visor, from the Daylodge (where the party was held), to the gondola station, to Trappers (the pub on the hill) and back to the Daylodge, around a 3 minute round trip, which in -20 degrees probably seems longer than that. He was slightly concerned he might end up fired over it, so his friends collected pledges for the nut run all night and finally, when Pat had accumulated over $100 and the last gondola down the hill was approaching, he decided to go for it. He did the run and raced back to the Daylodge, only to find to his horror that the first person he ran into as he entered the Daylodge, stark bollock naked, was Ralph Scurfield, our CEO. Ralph handed him a $20 note, saying "Good effort son".

Priceless.

Feeling blue

Although I had planned to make it up the hill again yesterday to try to conquer my powder demons, when my alarm went off at 6am and I tried to get out of bed, it quickly became apparent that my limbs were not playing ball. So I went back to sleep for a bit and spent the day dragging my heavy legs and aching muscles - many of which I was previously unaware I even possessed - around the place.

Today, however, I was not letting sore legs dictate the day. After a morning's work, which as usual passed by in the blink of an eye, I had the afternoon off and, after a quick bite to eat, headed up the hill with my ski gear to meet up with Toby, an English ski instructor I met last night who had offered - the fool! - to give me a few pointers. We started off going up the Strawberry lift and going down a run I was very familiar with, the Dell Valley. However, my confidence had been knocked by my inability to stay upright for more than 2 minutes the other day, my legs had forgotten how to behave on skis, the run was icy and the visibility at the top fairly poor, so although I managed to get to the bottom relatively unscathed, it hardly gave Toby a good impression of my abilities. I let him take the lead and we headed up Wawa lift for the next run. We did some exercises designed to improve my turning technique and gave the green run a go. It went fairly well, a few bails here and there but nothing dramatic, and as we headed up the lift a second time, he told me he was going to take me down a blue run next. "Erm...if you think that's okay?" I ventured, "I mean, what do blue runs have that green runs don't? Topless dancers, late night poker, that sort of thing?" "Well, you might find the odd bit of barbed wire, assorted booby traps and some land mines, but nothing you can't handle" Toby assured me.

I would love to tell you, gentle reader, that I stormed the blue run with grace and aplomb. But in reality, though I started well, I stacked it on practically every turn - into nice soft powder thankfully - when it got all mogely (bumpy) and very steep. However, I got down it in one piece, learnt a ton about turning on the way down, and we did another blue run straight after, which was a bit (a bit) better. Toby had to run off so I went up and took the green run again by myself and lo! Suddenly it felt like a piece of the proverbial. Not one fall and I found myself actively looking to make up speed and take a more interesting line. Ha!

Of course, I'm not saying I'm suddenly a brilliant skier. But with a ton of practice, I finally feel I might just make it as a perfectly acceptable one by the end of the season. Life is good.

Living the life of a celebrity, on the wages of a pauper

Over here at Sunshine, working full-time, I'm earning somewhere in the region of £500 per month. My rent and utilities comes to around £250, so the rest goes on food, entertainment and any other essentials. Back home this would be virtually impossible, but here, it's perfectly achievable to live on minimum wage. For a start, not drinking alcohol saves me tons! Most places here I'll pay for one soft drink, around $3, then get free refills for the rest of the night. We often eat communally, which saves money, and on our days off we mainly go skiing/snowboarding, which is free for those of us working at Sunshine obviously. Snow gear - jackets, thermals, boots etc. - is our main expense, because the good stuff does cost serious money, but once you're geared up, as I now am, you're done.

Yesterday was my day off and I had planned with a friend, Aaron, to go for a ski lesson. However, due to a car accident on the approach to the ski hill, the bus was late and I missed the start of the lesson, so we decided to just go up and do our own thing. Aaron has been boarding for years but has only skied twice before, so was happy to come on green runs with me. We'd had a ton of snow over night and it was still snowing heavily - puking snow as they say over here - so it was a 'powder day'.

I'd never skied in powder - having only skied twice before of course! - and soon discovered it was both a blessing and a curse. It was monstrously difficult to stay upright and nigh on impossible to turn when you were up to your knees in light, fluffy snow, unable to even see where your skis were. If you slowed or stopped, the effort involved in just lifting your feet up to get on top of the snow again was monstrous and soon my legs were like jelly. However, if you got a good downhill run going, you could bomb down with relative confidence, because if you did fall your landing was as soft as snot (as my mother would say). I literally stacked it every couple of minutes and sometimes the temptation to just lie there in the comfortable snow and to catch your breath for a bit was overwhelming. On one occasion I did a huge bail face first into a ton of snow, which was apparently hilarious to see and the story has already done the rounds. I managed to drag myself up and looked around to see where my left ski, which had come off, was. It was nowhere to be found. Eventually, after poking randomly around with my pole, I found it about 4 feet away and completely hidden 2 feet under the snow. I tried to get it back on but everytime I tried to clip my boot into the bindings it sank again without a trace. A full ten minutes later, I was finally ready to head back off down the run, where Aaron and another friend Amy were waiting patiently for me.

Eventually I went to have lunch and bumped into Chris, Gravy & Zander, who were having an awesome day boarding down black runs. It certainly seems to me that snowboards have a slightly easier time of it in the deep powder due, presumably, to their width. I did one more run after lunch before deciding that my legs just wouldn't take it anymore, so I popped off to the Sunshine Inn hotel (right on the ski hill) to take advantage of the huge outdoor hot tub, where the boys and Amy joined me.

It was snowing heavily and was fairly mild by then, around -5, compared to the -25 we'd had in previous days. We ordered drinks (me a coke, the boys a pitcher of beer) and sank down to relieve our aching limbs. Pretty soon we were so warm that the idea of stepping out into the snow in our swimmers was rather inviting and so the boys went first, rubbing themselves down with snow before jumping back into the hot tub, which gave you a pleasant, all over tingling/pins & needles sensation for around five minutes afterwards. Just next to us was a gate which led out onto one of the ski runs, so the boys then decided to try lying down in the snow, face first initially:

then onto their backs:

I was reluctant at first to try it, what with my pathetic circulation an' all, but soon got swept up in the excitement and sure enough, soon discovered that lying in the snow in a bikini was an enormously exhilarating experience, and the resultant tingling well worth it:

As we sat in the hot tub, drinking beer/coke, watching skiers and snowboarders whiz past us, reflecting on our day, we couldn't stop telling each other how amazing our lives were at the moment. We are enormously lucky to be here, in an incredible place, with fantastic people, doing things we love. We truly are living the dream, and we're determined not to take even one second of it for granted.

It's a numbers game

27. Sounds so innocent, doesn't it? But it sends shivers down my spine, because the number 27 follows me everywhere. Consider the evidence:

• I was born on 27th June (put it in your diaries people)
• I grew up at 27 Ingrams Close
• My staff number when I was temping contained 27
• My staff number at Queen Charlotte's contained 27
• My staff number here at Sunshine Village contains 27
• My ski locker here at Sunshine, to which I was randomly allocated, is number 27
  
• My flat in Weybridge is number 72 (stretching it slightly?)
• 27 was by far my favourite age (stretching it quite a lot?)

Now the most scary one:

• When we went to bingo the other night, of the six boards I selected totally at random, all six of them contained the number 27.

What can it all mean?

How cool?

As you may already be aware, one of the things I was most concerned about when I knew I was making the trip over here to Canada was the weather. As someone with pathetically poor circulation, who therefore doesn't fair well in cold temperatures, I had no idea what really cold (i.e. sub -10c) felt like or how I would cope with it. Well, as it's been knocking around the -15 to -25 mark for the past couple of days, I'd like to share with you the things I've learnt.

I believe it was Billy Connelly who first said that there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing. How true. My thermals, multiple layers of clothes, goose down coat, insulated boots, ski mittens, scarves and array of toques (woolly hats, to those back home) work a bloody treat and despite the well-below-freezing temperatures, I usually find myself toasty warm. In fact, I can usually only really feel how cold it is on my face, which then necessitates pulling my scarf up over my mouth and nose; Kate & I ably demonstrated this technique only this evening, and though admittedly we did look like we were about to pull a bank job, so did every other person on the street. To my utmost surprise, I rarely 'lose' my fingers (my term for when the Reynaud's kicks in) as long as I'm wearing my mittens, which are far far superior to gloves by the way, though if you have to remove them for any reason it's amazing how quickly you realise how bloody cold it is without them.

That said, my body temperature must have adjusted considerably in recent weeks. This afternoon, I popped out of the guest services building to pick up a bottle of 7up. I was dressed in my uniform, which consists of a thin quarter-zip top, under a sort-of fleece jacket, which I had unzipped. As I got outside, I thought to myself, oh, it's not too cold actually, and so I ambled over to buy my drink, only noticing as I made my leisurely way back on the thermometer outside the ticket windows that it was, in fact, -19c. Now, once upon a time in the very recent past, I would have been terrified at the thought of temperatures as low as that. I would have assumed that I would have turned into a popsicle within seconds. But in fact I now know that it's really not that bad and more importantly, I can cope with it. And thank goodness for that, given that it's not likely to get much warmer in the foreseeable future...