Email: alisongrist@tiscali.co.uk Call: +44 (0)7940 59 00 70

April 2009:  Earlier this year, I bought two helmets; my first ever cycling helmet and my first ever skiing helmet.

I felt it was about time as I’d been speeding down various hills for years thinking one slip and this could all be over. Or maybe it’s a sign of age? Maybe I’m naturally becoming more cautious, fearful of what I’ve got to lose. Since the tragic death last month of actress Natasha Richardson, who had fallen on a beginner’s ski slope and hadn’t been wearing one, the helmet debate has been heard on radio phone-in shows, online chat rooms and in bubble lifts the world over.

In the many years that I’ve been skiing in Europe, I’ve witnessed how ski slopes that were once helmet-free are now populated by most children wearing helmets and a steadily growing number of adult wearers too.

I’ve just returned from two weeks in Courchevel in the French Alps where I wore my Giro helmet every single day. To be frank, I did miss the rush of wind in my hair on the sunny days, the helmet has vents all over it but it’s not the same. Helmets are also not the most flattering item of clothing to wear and helmet hair is pretty bad. But on the colder days I was grateful for its cosiness as it kept my ear lobes warm which have a tendency to become chapped.

One of the best things about wearing a helmet is that when other chairlift users try and bring the bar down within a few seconds of getting on the lift, when you’re just settling in, maybe even still looking down at your skis, it doesn’t hurt when that bar clunks your head.

Depending on the snow conditions, I ski and snowboard and while I don’t tend to fall or collide with anybody on my skis, I do fall more often on the board. And so it was that this year’s fall was on a snowboard, nearing the bottom of a fairly easy slope. It was one of those classic snowboarder falls, where you’re standing fairly upright because you’ve nearly finished a run and couldn’t be bothered to hold the proper position. It was a near collision with a fellow boarder – and friend – which caused me to catch my toe-edge.