Crisis, what crisis

Even in the quietest moments you can hear the shriek of a banshee. Well the evening arrived and our party was picked up in a Rangerover which was driven by an eastern european Bond baddie. We head for the 2.5km track that I walked up the day before. This time we were in a vehicle driven by a maniac who was keen to impress with his slides round the corners and decent speed. He occasionally sounded his horn for any oncoming tobogonnars who would certainly have been gonners had we met at any corner. Reaching the summit it was silly numbers below, so we had a gluvine to heat us up and also give me the courage to descend on lumps of wood with the 6 year olds who had joined us. The hour struck and we headed to the top of the slope, I let the 6 year olds go to give them a head start. Initial few yards no problem but as soon as we reached first slope then begun a 6 minute adrenaline rush. The braver headed head first and the less brave sitting upright and then there was me uprights and heels firmly in snow. As I yelped like the gayest banshee others looked around to see what could be making such a noise. Was keen to video so I tried camera in top of my trousers, but feared a quick corner and a shift of camera and I could have created my first personal sex tape, so logically I decided to take off a glove and hold along with my reigns. Needless to say b time I got to bottom I my right hand was not of this world and took an hour to thaw out. Think I was the only one who came to a stop before end as the final straight was long and fast...you could smell the burning rubber from my heels. fantastic experience even if I was the equivalent of your elderly oap sunday driver. You got to give a little bit to get a lot.