gabriel eventually convinced me to go up to the grand motte (the glacial summer ski area (3556m) - officially under Tignes) and we ended up above the cloud line

made for some wonderful vistas but it was a hell of a lot colder than it looks on these photos - unless you were in windshadow you'd get totally screwed.


self portrait of the artist previously known as nick

still no shades and a wanky headband to boot but the skiing was improving leaps and bounds putting paid to finn's/my theory that we learn quicker as we're older - which is of course odd cause it's supposed to be the other way around...

the happy couple

having survived three years at cambridge together, new year's eve couped up in no-hope mottaret, 10 days in a convertible VW in Squaw, a freefall parachute jump, a fucking freezing guest list queue in LA and a week of virgin powder in Courchevel da boys dance a jig and take a chill pill on the grand motte...


second week, same as the first [I'm henry the VIIIth I am henry the VIIIth I am I am]