Alpine Mummy

A new life in the middle of nowhere


9 Comments

The fridge smells of farts

I love it here in the middle of nowhere.  And I tell people that.  But that makes for a boring story, really.  Sometimes people want to hear the juicy bits, the rubbish bits, the bits that give them an opportunity to sit back and say “well, yeah, it’s alright I suppose, living in the middle of nowhere like that Alpine Mummy does, but it’s not all great – did you know [insert relevant horror story]….?”

So for those of you who think like that (don’t be shy, I love hearing about other people’s misfortunes!), here are some of the crap bits about living here.  This is not a racist tirade against France, you understand (or at least it’s not intended to be…), nor should it be seen as an indication that I hate it here and I’ve made some kind of terrible mistake in moving out my entire family (I don’t and I haven’t).  But maybe some of these points will be useful to throw back at me if and when I ever get a little too smug about how great it is here…

Continue reading


4 Comments

Introducing Alpine Papa

Alpine Papa doesn’t blog.  What he does do, though, is take photos.  Very good photos, I think.  So here is his photostream (well, one of them, anyway).  Do stop by and say hello to him; we’ll love you forever.

And if all that’s true about pictures painting a thousand words, then he’s a much better blogger than I’ll ever be…

xx


4 Comments

Making a good impression. Oh yes.

Summer is coming to an end, and I’m starting to panic about quite what it’s going to be like here in November, in the middle of nowhere, in the cold and wet… But, rather than sit at home dwelling on that, I’m rapidly trying to cram as much as possible into these last few days (and hoping that I’m wrong, and summer is going to stick around for a few more weeks yet). Get me, what positivity!

Continue reading


8 Comments

Tragedy in Paradise – Chevaline murders

Less than two weeks ago, the most horrendous horrific crime took place right on our doorstep: three Brits were found shot dead in their car in a secluded beauty-spot, and a French cyclist found just nearby.  Whole villages were in shock, and no-one I spoke to could quite believe that it could happen here, in such a quiet beautiful place, in the middle of nowhere.

Alpine Papa had been in Chevaline on the very morning of the murders, and called me as the story was breaking in the afternoon, with police and firemen screaming past his office on the way to the crime scene.

Continue reading


11 Comments

How to leave the house in less than three hours*

Before babies, I never seemed to have a problem leaving the house.  I’ve never been particularly organised, and I was always maybe a teeny bit (let’s say “fashionably”) late, but I was able to leave the house in, say, 15 minutes if my lie-in required it.  During those 15 minutes I would even manage to brush my hair and slap on some make-up (both a distant memory these days…).

So it was a bit of a shock when Alpine Boy was born and I realised that leaving the house was in fact a military operation.   I soon worked out that if I wanted to go out at a certain time, I would have to start getting ready an hour before.  At least.  If I wanted to wash my hair we were looking at another hour.  Gradually, as time went on (and as he grew out of needing huge amounts of stuff everywhere we went) I perfected my preparation skills and, by the time he was three, I was a lean, mean, house-leaving machine (and longer lie-ins returned, hurrah).

But now that Alpine Girl has joined our happy family we’re (nearly) back to point zero – yet again it takes forever to rally the troops, pack the bags, feed and change the baby, and actually walk out the door.  In general (and thanks to the miracle that is dry-shampoo), I’ve managed to speed it up to 30 minutes of preparation time, on a good day.  Monday was not a good day.

Continue reading