I met my old university pals HVJ, JS, and SPL in the Alps for a short non-ski winter break. Our accommodation was a large room with four single beds, athough not quite large enough for me to pig-snore without waking my room-mates.

On the day that we were due to leave, I made the rash decision to ride high into the mountains on a ski lift – without first checking that there was a route back to the village for non-skiers.

I ended up stranded for hours at the top of the mountain. The ski lift staff had no interest in helping me as they dealt with hundreds of half-term holiday-makers. I fear that they misunderstood my request to be returned to the bottom of the piste to be a complaint about the price of pork.