Loki's reaction to skiing was unencumbered by the burden of nuance - as evidenced by him shouting at the top of his voice 'I don't like skiing!' Usually he said this in response to us suggesting we go skiing. Given we were in the Swiss Alps and there was a lot of snow, this created some modicum of tension between us.
Disappointed to find that he couldn't ski instantly the moment he put skis on, Loki tapped into his reserves of patience, persistence, stamina and endurance, discovering very quickly that he didn't actually have any of these at all.
So we went for a ski instructor to try to break the impasse. And in the process we must have funded a new hospital and probably a social care facility as well in the nearby area.
Five days of this little routine - sore feet in my tight boots, Loki protesting that he didn't want to ski, us handing over loads of dough to Swiss robbers, and then finally on the fifth morning Loki relented and decided to ski.
In the process, the diet struggled. The relentless days demanded that the evenings be relaxing. So weigh-in day tomorrow (recall we are back in the UK now) will be ghastly I'm sure. Without nuance.
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