2016 Wins Hand Down

Now I have had some interesting times during my 52 years on this planet, but if I was asked to pick a single year that was the most eventful, filled with the highest of highs and sprinkled with a few unexpected shocks and gut wrenching lows, it would be easy – 2016 would be the runaway winner.

As I write this, 2016 has won the Champions League of Eventful Years with two months of the season left to play.  But I suspect that the run-in to the season end will be anything but a succession of glorious exhibition matches but rather a microcosm of what has passed so far, with some more highs, lows but I pray no more shocks.  

The year started with one of those amazing highs – my regular New Year’s ski trip with my daughters to Morzine in the French Alps.  Megan, 18 at the time, had her boyfriend Tom, a novice snowboarder, to look after.  Milly 15 had her longtime friend and accomplished skier Dan in tow and as for me – I had my girlfriend of 15 months Emma to keep me in check.

As a family, the girls and I have been skiing the huge Portes du Soleil ski area for 10 years and so given that the girls know the area so well, I planned a New Year’s Eve lunch time excursion for me and Emma to our favourite restaurant, leaving the girls to their own devices.

The owner of the restaurant was fully briefed that once we are settled and drinks have been served he is to interrupt us and ask if we wanted our picture taken, then as we agree and start posing for the camera, I would get down on bended knee and present Emma with an engagement ring as I ask for her hand in marriage.  The moment being captured forever in pictures.

Now Emma has one of the weakest bladders I know and needs to empty it every 10 minutes and so my thought was to bury the ring in its box at the bottom of my ruck sack so Emma would not stumble across it if she tried to retrieve any of her items that I was I carrying. Then after the 20 minute taxi ride followed by the 1 mile  walk up the track to the Restaurant in the cold winter air, the first thing Emma would do on arrival would be to go and powder her nose, at which point I would dig out the ring and secrete it on my person ready for the Disney moment.

That is the thing with women – you think you can predict their behaviour and 9 times out of ten you can, but the times that you really need them to do what is expected of them, they lead you a merry dance.

As I sit with Emma, fidgeting like a cat on a hot tin roof, it takes all of my powers of restraint to stop myself from shouting “go to the bloody toilet you dopey mare” but I suspected that this possibly would have stolen some of the magic from the impending romantic moment.

The manager catches my eye and silently asks if he should start the charade now. Not being fluent in the language of facial mime, I do my best to say “no not yet” to which he reacts by striding purposefully to where we are sat and asks if we would like our picture taken. 

So the proposal takes place with the ring still buried at the bottom of the rucksack but the outcome was as desired – I entered 2016 engaged to the most wonderful woman as we start in earnest to plan our life together.

The picture of the magic moment as I explain to Emma if she was expecting a ring, it's in the bloody rucksack over there !