Call me a blinkered, moronic, mollycoddled idiot (seriously, I’m fine with this) but I only quite recently realised there was something intrinsically posh about skiing.
Call me a blinkered, moronic, mollycoddled idiot (seriously, I’m fine with this) but I only quite recently realised there was something intrinsically posh about skiing. This isn’t because I grew up doing it; more because I didn’t, really.
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