YOU DON’T SHOW YOUR UNDERGARMENTS IN PUBLIC, SO DON’T SHOW THEM IN YOUR CLOSET! YOUR BRAS, PANTIES, AND SOCKS SHOULD EACH HAVE AN INDIVIDUAL DRAWER BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.
It is such a large home, after we have the café that I serve now with a muffin, we can’t hear anyone else, we believe our hosts are still sleeping, so we quietly slip out the back Jack off to Highlands; I am in all white today but sadly forget my helmet which comes in the second shift. It is cold, but heading warmer and we are skiing with a Brooklyn New Yorker where I am yet to visit, the accent is a killer. Being from Brooklyn back in the day was a bit gangster, but today it is hot. We need to meet at noon for lunch outside at the top of the mountain, Cloud Nine. Within a 5 minute period weirdly my helmet and googles are stolen and I am left with a random matt black large men’s. Even after a two bottle wine lunch between 6 of us, no helmet is returned, obviously I am going to have to get my Brooklyn connection involved.
We ski out the day hard and fast; I even loose the group for a run or two and then we regroup. Still no helmet, I am wearing the bigger one, not built for speed we leave the hill for tennis now six of us hitting in this thin air. Tonight will be a crazy Australian hosted dinner party in a wine cellar, in another massive home by the same builder who is also in attendance. The wine is paired with yummy food in the cellar of fun. As dinner ends, the song books come out and we are in full regale. There is the classic New York New York; I feel it plus when a Tom Jones song is next, I try a new party trick unhook, remove, swing and toss my bra, oh dear maybe I am a bit too comfortable. I discover the next day after all of us banging our hands on the table not just me, I have chipped my diamond ring. Party hazards: wine.