‘And this chalet was built in 2016,’ Cameron is saying, ‘though it looks like it could have been here almost forever. The stone is all local, apart from the granite in the kitchen, which is one of the best types you can buy. As you can see, we have Banksy prints here on the wall – none of this alpine hearts and wooden skis rubbish for our guests. The fur throws are real because that’s what most of our guests are impressed by, but if we have any eco-types coming, we can take them away and replace them with fakes – they just have to let us know. Hardly ever happens. The champagne is Bollinger, unless the clients request otherwise, and there are high-end candles in all the rooms – we offer a choice of different brands and scents in an email before they arrive. And pretty much any requests, from helicopter transfers to alligator steaks for dinner, we’ll endeavour to fulfil – at a price, of course. It’s all very bespoke – high net worth individuals love all that.’

Cameron has been showing me round all his chalets in the resort today. He is still no less of a cock than when we first met but I have to admit, the chalets are impressive and he seems to know the luxury market inside out.

‘How many weeks of the year would you typically have bookings?’ I ask.

He gives me a withering look, even though I’m sure my question is a perfectly sensible one. ‘We’re usually as good as fully booked for the winter season, plus we’ll get a good few weeks in the summer. But there are enough people out there with more money than sense to make the chalets pay; you can charge absolutely ridiculous money for the peak winter weeks. Sometimes very rich families will book one of the smaller ones like this for most of the season – they’ll bring the kids, the nanny, the tutor etcetera and come and go in a private plane or helicopter, since we have an altiport here. They might only end up being here for a total of four weeks or so out of the season and we make a mint on it because they’ve paid for several months. Some of them who come out don’t even ski. It’s beyond me why they pay the prices I charge, but they do, so I’m not complaining.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say, wondering if Cameron’s contempt for his clients is really a good fit for Redbush’s wholesome and personal service-led image. ‘And do you yourself have much, um, contact with the clients?’