Dear Thredbo, I visited you last week. You were everything I wanted you to be. I was struck with nostalgia, and not without a little guilt. You see, everywhere I looked the were memories I didn’t know you and I had. There’s the spot where I learned to ski as a child with the ‘Yogi bears’. There’s dad’s lodge where, as a teenager it was tiresome to sit around a table chatting to adults after a hard day’s skiing but i did it. There’s Eagle’s Nest restaurant, with its cool birds-eye view of our fine land. The top of Karel’s floods me with memories of snow balls and laughter on many a ski trip as a uni student. And there’s the ski office where I walked in one day and met wonderful Brad and Monica, who were so amazing, taking us all to Austria to follow our ‘Anweiter’ ski instructor dreams in Alps that took my heart and stretched it all over the white cold peaks. An engagement in the snow, with an oustretched hand on the chairlift to admire the ring, clutchng it carefully to make sure it didn’t drop to eternity below. Guilt, yes, because Thredbo, I deserted you for eight years. I deserted you, not only to sample the delights of overseas resorts, but also to your close cousin Persher because I have an equally persuasive husband who says Perisher, Perisher, Perisher at any opportunity. But I am wiley, like a fox, Thredbo. And I will tempt him back to the Austrian-like hilltop village, the moving waters of the river that feels the drips of ski boots and plops of snowboarder’s snow. I haven’t forgotten you, Thredbo. I’m merely biding my time. Love me x

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