Chamonix
The mountain Village When the school holidays began, it was terrible weather. The plan was to skip school on Friday, the last day of term, and leave to Geneva then, but when Mum and I were walking home from a restaurant on Thursday night, an alarm sounded on everyone’s phones, including Mum’s and mine, telling us about severe weather the next day. And when I mean everyone’s phones, I mean literally every person in the street at the exact same time had a blaring weather report on their phone. The next day, it was worse. Schools all over Nice had been cancelled, and it was strongly suggested to stay inside and not to go anywhere. I wanted to go for a run, but the weather was so harsh, so I ran up and down the stairs in our apartment, only to wake some very grumpy neighbours. When Mum and I ventured down to the street to get croissants, we were practically blown off our feet. Struggling on the way back, we finally got the croissants, and very wet and blown apart, we made our way to the
