I was at funeral a few weeks ago, laying to rest a guy I hardly knew. I'd met John a few times in Val d'Isere but sadly to my detriment never really got to know him properly.

So I was standing at the back of the church, which itself is a testament to the type of person that John was, that he'd had an impact on so many lives that the church was overflowing, when the coffin was carried in and the song Happy Ending by Mika was piped through the speakers.

I'd never heard contemporary music at a funeral before - the closest was at the last one I went to, for my Godmother Maeve, where her son Toby played the guitar and sang a song, I can't remember which one. The only thing I remember of that occasion was arriving late and hiding at the back, only to be spotted by my uncle Tony, who inserted some impromptu paragraphs into his eulogy about how Maeve had looked after Ben and I after my mother died. He was good at off-the-cuff, but then again he was phenomenally clever.

Sadly I never got to go to Tony's funeral because my family didn't give enough of a shit to invite Ben or I, which seems a shame as he was Godfather to both of us. Fortunately we got to go and see him in the hospice when he was dying of cancer so we got to say our goodbye in person.

But we both found ourselves at John Vanns's funeral, listening to a wonderful eulogy from his brother, Pete. Whilst there were tears all around me I could only smile at Pete's heartfelt words about his younger brother and when it came to sing a rousing rendition of Jerusalem I put my all into it - and I could hear my brother's tenor voice from the other side of the church. The rest of the day was spent in celebration of Jamboy's life.

I found myself at work a week later, listening to music whilst trying to get something or other done when I heard a familiar song through my headphones. It has Happy Ending and I was immediately transported back to that moment that the coffin was carried into the church. Initially I was angry that a song I enjoyed listening to could cause me to remember such a sad occasion, but then I realised that the message was one of happiness and hope.

Forever, now, when I hear that song I'll always be reminded of a few moments in time: an outpouring of grief, a great speech, and a wonderful turn out of people who's lives were made richer by a guy called John Vanns. I just hope that I'll have made such a great impression on the world when I disappear from it forever.
 

Shakespeare wrote 154 of these things. I didn't realise how bloody hard they are to compose until I tried to do one. It's not just the structure but the iambic pentameter that proves to be a complete bitch.  Anyway, here's the first (and possibly only) effort:

This sonnet is just a poem with rhyme
and meter.  Yet the words that I put down
distil what I feel at this point in time.
These words I write for you they were my own
but now they are yours to discard or keep.
Each day I see a picture of your face;
sometimes you even interrupt my sleep.
Your eyes and your smile provide some solace
only bettered by a bestowed kiss
from your tender lips.  To feel your caress
would be the apogee of utter bliss.
To live life without it would be duress.
Yet this decision I must leave with you;
As these feelings might not always be true.

If Robert Baden-Powell had been born a century later and been into his skiing he'd probably have been found in Dick's Tea Bar, with the Green Fairy on his shoulder and his woggle down by his ankles, waxing lyrical about the merits of being a saisonnaire in Val D'Isère. Scouts would certainly have been different – to get your Basic Knots badge you'd have to be able to undo a bra strap with one hand at 4am whilst inebriated; your Advanced badge would involve you being tied to a bed post somewhere in La Daille with only ten minutes to make it to work for your morning shift.

So we present TME's guide to the top ten saisonnaire merit badges. We’re not advocating anything illegal here though some of them may place you in a certain echelon of moral turpitude; and if you've been featuring regularly in The Insider then you may be able to tick off a few already.

Night Swimming
Everyone has ended up at that special level of drunk where the beer fleece protects you from the elements as Dicks turfs out and any idea seems to carry with it an Einsteinian level of genius, including getting down to your smalls and going swimming in -10^oC conditions with your weekly recommended alcohol intake inside you. A quick dip won't suffice so 2 pools in a night, three pools in a week and ten in a season to qualify. Hot tubs count; the pool under the Sun Bar does not and one of your ten has to be the fountain on the main roundabout (see the photo page for an example).

Six Nations/Tri-Nations
The two most famous annual rugby competitions in the world, one coming to a conclusion and one not kicking off until after the Lions tour in July... have almost nothing to do with these two badges. There are members of every nation playing in these competitions lurking around resort. If you can get to know someone, in the biblical sense, from either every country in either the Six Nations or Tri-Nations (for the unenlightened England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, France and Italy for the former, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa for the latter) then you earn the badge. For the avoidance of doubt, they have to hold the passport for the nation concerned (even if they’re here working under a different one). 

Every Black Run in a day
There are 19 in the Espace Killy. Le Tunnel doesn’t count as the last time it was open, Jean-Claude Killy was in nappies. The rest are in, even the unpisted ones. We’ve had a look at the map and it’s a stretch to say the least, but if we fell on the floor with our legs in the air and just gave you the badge you wouldn’t respect us in the morning. You’ll need to start at the first Fornet bubble at first lift and go from there.

Chalet Companies
I’m not even sure how many there are in town, but if you can manage to wake up with the polo shirt from each one on the floor next to your bed and the owner next to you then you’ve got your badge. I suspect some of you are a considerable way along to getting this one. Extra points if you can do it in one night. Even more points if you can take someone's fleur-de-lis in the process.

Cocktail List
You may have noticed there are one or two bars in town with some serious cocktail lists. Simply working your way through them over a number of days would just be too easy so we’ll put it at any list over ten long in under three hours. Try not to do it on a day when you have to work. If you can take down the Danois list in under one hour forty nine you’ll earn my respect as a freebee.

Leo Sayer
Nothing to do with the microphone-headed crooner who was number one in the charts when I was born but simple rhyming slang for an all-dayer. Spend open till close in the same bar. Clearly, one that serves food is highly recommended. If you’re the sort of shandy-drinking whoopsie who’d sit there sipping Perrier all day you’re missing the point more than Michael Bay did when he made Pearl Harbour.

Echo Golf
Last time we checked, there are nineteen bars and restaurants advertising in The Mountain Echo - that’s a perfect golf course with a club house at the end. So flannel up and slacks on and have a drink in each. Suggested route to avoid being ejected from the more salubrious establishments on the course: Cafe Face, Belle Etoile, Blue Note, Alexandra Bar, PPJ (Jack Bar), Saloon, Moris, Pacific, Warm Up, Victors, Bar Jacques, Lodge Bar, Le Petit Danois, V Spot, Le Pub, Le Graal, Foret Bar, Bananas and Dicks.

Sex on the Piste
Just to be clear, we're not talking about cocktails with this one. Anywhere in the Espace Killy, so if you don’t mind outdoor horizontal gymnastics in minus temperatures feel free to grab a rug and find somewhere secluded. The ski lifts may provide you with a warmer option: the Aeroski if you like to wave at the skiers going past; Le Brevieres bubble if you like to take your time; and the first Fornet bubble if you’re into the dogging thing.

All Mountain
A full week-long mission to ski every single run in the resort. Fornet, Solaise, Bellevarde, La Daille, Val Claret, Tignes Le Lac and Le Brevieres will divide it up and are likely to cook your legs crisper than a Christmas turkey by the end of it.

Could we have come up with more? Very easily (and if you find me on a big night I might let slip the five I couldn’t write about), but hopefully these ten cover the full gamut of being a Val d’Isere saisonnaire. Baden-Powell wrote in the final instalment of the somewhat unfortunately titled Scouting for Boys in 1908, ‘Play the game: don’t look on. The British Empire wants your help. Fall of the Roman Empire was due to bad citizenship’. Personally I thought the Visigoths and Vandals were largely responsible for the latter, but heed these words: Play the game.