One large ski chalet in the French Alps and 17 strangers. An organised trip for solo travellers is a leap into the unknown
Everyone had their reasons for joining the trip. Louisa from south London was putting her life back together after a split from her partner; first-timer Tim was strapping on ski boots following years of hesitation; and Lexi from Bristol had a classic case of the non-skiing boyfriend.
I was there because I needed a ski gang. None of my friends ski, and my brother was out of action with an injury. Not only that, I needed a good night’s sleep. I love my two-year-old son dearly, but I have somehow spawned an insomniac – still waking four times a night. Weary from bedtime battles, Holly, my partner, bluntly pointed out we could both benefit from “a temporary break from family life”. In other words: separate holidays.
