He moves away and I feel a stab of anger – he said he would stay with me! I push with my poles and arrange my skis in a pizza-wedge shape to follow, very slowly.

‘Yay! See? You’re doing it!’ he cries as I slide behind him. I continue in my hunched position, head down, bum stuck out in spite of what Will said, following the sound of his voice until he stops. We’ve somehow made it to the lift.

But this is unlike any lift I’ve ever seen. There’s a queue of people waiting patiently; I watch as each one takes it in turn to grab hold of a big metal bar which is hanging above them, position it so a disc sits between their legs and then let the thing pull them up the mountain. It’s even worse than the bubble.

Will looks at me expectantly. I stare back in horror. ‘You’re not seriously expecting me to go up on that?’

His face falls. ‘Louisa, it will be fine! Look, there are tiny children doing it. All you have to do is keep your skis straight and remember not to try to sit down on the button, just lean on it.’

One of the men in red takes a pole and positions a particularly small child in front of one of his legs, before there is a gentle clang and they start sliding serenely up the hill.

‘Can’t I go up like that with you?’ I ask, attempting to inject a touch of lightness into the situation which I certainly don’t feel.

He laughs. I realize it’s the first time either of us has laughed all day. ‘You’ll be fine. You’ll see.’

I am not fine. The first time I try, I simply drop the pulley thing. The second time, I manage to jam it between my legs, but it pulls with a jerk I wasn’t expecting and I fall over before I’ve even moved, and then it takes about five humiliating minutes for Will and the lift operator to get me back on my feet and in position to have another go. The next time I go a few metres, but I forget what Will said about not sitting and crash down onto my arse.

It is painful and embarrassing. Everyone can do this apart from me. I feel hot tears threatening and it’s clear Will’s patience is wearing thin.

And then, just as I am about to throw my poles down on the ground and say I can’t do this any more, I finally make it all the way to the top.

But by this time I’m exhausted, so I persuade Will that we should stop for lunch before I attempt any more skiing. Fortunately, there’s a café right opposite the little slope we’re on.