I spend five months of the year in the French Alps indulging my passion for off-piste skiing. But it’s not just the mountains that I’ve fallen in love with.
Whenever time allows I like to ditch the satnav, stay away from the peage autoroute and turn the long drive to and from the UK into a voyage of discovery. I’m never quite sure how the adventure will unfold but I’m never disappointed.
On one trip with Harry and Alfie we followed a logging track for ten miles through the Epinal forest, played football with local kids in the village of Fonville (France 4 -3 England) and trialled roof box riding in Chalons-en-Champagne.
Despite my woeful inability to speak the language with any degree of fluency, I feel at home in France and wherever I’ve travelled I’ve always been made to feel welcome.
So from Charlie Hebdo to Bastille Day it’s hard for me to understand where the hatred comes from.
I know that my French friends will be a little bit disappointed in me that Britain voted for BREXIT, but I hope they also know that my solidarity, in the face of these atrocities is assured.