250 gay men in a small Swiss village who all ski - giddy.
We agreed to join our friend James for Arosa Gay Ski Week a few weeks back. R and I have a tendency to conjure up a reality that is far more hedonistic than the actuality and I don't think either of us had pictured classical concerts listening to Beethoven piano sonatas in the parish church or glasses of Chianti in front of a roaring fire Russian oligarch spotting,
Anyway - the evening entertainments are hotting up. After tonight's night-time tobogganing and fondue in the mountains there's a "spa party" in our hotel (the spa fits 25 at a push - not sure how that will work). Anyway - the smiley Croatian in our ski group asked if he could change for the spa in our room and he's clearly committed the number that we gave him to memory - right.
And the skiing? Amazing - we're being guided through the mountains with 15 other guys by a charismatic Frenchman called Sebastian. Gay men notice your ski wear and the blue 90s Columbia salopets that my brother didn't want have been a sensation, James suggesting earlier that the high waist line (they're really long) give me a trouser style that even Simon Cowell would be proud of.
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