‘He’s clearly only ever been skiing in the mountains,’ Beth shrugs.

‘God, there’s so much stuff to carry,’ I say. ‘And it’s freezing.’

‘I can already see how much of a hoot you and Jack would’ve had, babes.’

Beth places her skis down onto the snow and I copy, mine flopping and flipping over. She shows me how to step into each ski, tells me to listen for a simple ‘click, click,’ and then to dig my poles into the snow so I don’t lose my balance. I do exactly what she says, and immediately lose my balance anyway and fall awkwardly onto my side, one foot still attached to a ski, one not. Without fuss, Beth offers her hand to help me up; but I can’t. I can’t get up. I’m bulked out with an evil contraption around my ankles and quite frankly, this is fucking impossible.

‘Beginner’s luck, eh?’ I attempt a joke.

She holds me steady as I grab her forearms to click, click into my skis. She hands me my poles and we’re ready. I’m about to do this. I’m going to ski. I trail behind Beth who bends her knees, digs her poles in and gently propels herself forwards across the flat snow towards the chairlift. She’s like a graceful swan. Dance music pumps across the dauntingly steep slope (which Beth has already remarked is ‘tiny’) and the dull noise from the lift mechanisms fills me with dread. How am I going to sit down with skis on? And how the fuck am I supposed to get off when we reach the top?

‘Just bend your knees, hold your centre, clench your buttocks and follow me,’ Beth says. ‘I’ll go proper slow. Okay?’

I nod, but all my focus is on sitting down. Beth has both her poles in one hand, and guides me with the other as we shuffle along. Our skis and boots bear an uncanny resemblance to huge clown shoes. As we get into position on the line for the chair lift to sweep us up, I’m terrified. A hollow shakiness ripples through my body and I shut my eyes tight, willing myself to disappear. Then whoosh! We’re up! I’m sitting, my skis and feet off the ground. Beth pulls the metal safety bar over us. I whoop, do a little dance to the beat and … drop one of my poles.

‘Shit!’

Any elation is short-lived. And the weight in my ankles, hanging down with these boots and skis attached, I mean. Fuck. Me. How is Beth so calm? How?

‘Don’t panic, babes. To be honest, you don’t need your poles when you’re learning.’

‘But I liked the poles!’ I moan. ‘They made me feel safe!’