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I see it was TC Cats birthday the other week – HBD big cat! We’ve been tight for a while.
According to Mama Smoothy I was one of the first bambinis through the doors of the TC cat crèche. I had always thought it was quite odd to be deposited in this warm cosy place to play all day and take naps. Like clockwork at 4pm everyday Ron and Ellen would turn up looking guilty and dusting a strange white powder off their babe’n stretch pants.
Oh the treachery, I didn’t even know the good times to be had outside those crèche doors. Ron and Ellen ditched my brother and I every Saturday and Sunday to dedicate their weekends to powder eights and looking hot in stretch ski pants.
Soon I was deemed less of a flight risk and took to the pommer with gusto. There was always one sizable human positioned at the bottom of the slope to catch me on those laps when I got overly excited and forgot to stop. Doing laps on the poma and the cat track I made a friend who also rep’d a pink bike helmet and token loud onesie. We skied with our teddy-bears and pee’d our pants every once in a while (so many layers!). It was a good time.
Soon enough we had a regular ratpack terrorizing TC instructors on Sunday lessons. Our record for instructors defeated in a season was around six.
The bad manners,
The name calling,
It was all terribly unbridled girl behaviour.
If the instructor wanted us to ski Easy Street and we were feeling more like a spot of Cat Track, we would throw our poles off the two seater onto the Cattie and stick out our tongue. Shameful.
I still get pretty tuckered out skiing all day with my buddies, however falling asleep in the carpark is a slightly less frequent occurrence.