Small French farming villages — that just happen to be rich ski resorts in winter — are often very closed to outsiders. La Clusaz is no exception, and even the kids who were born in the Aravis with parents from elsewhere aren’t considered local. Being an ‘etranger’ from Australia, I have no chance of ever being considered local, and that doesn’t bother me: my heritage as a bit of a novelty for the locals in La Clusaz, which sometimes works in my favour. Last night, for example, I recorded some jingles for the La Clusaz radio station, RadioMeuh (that’s French for ‘moo’). I don’t know if they will use many of the nine jingles I recorded, but it was nice to be amongst the Frenchies. I even managed to explain the plot of my novel in French to one girl who was patient enough to listen to my broken sentences and mixed tenses.