Skiing must have had some primeval pull for you Danny. Having risked life and limb in experiencing it in the sub-continent (the risking bit being getting to and from it), here you are again and facing the self imposed rigours of British Railways and the SNCF to boot, instead of the superior luxury of a charter flight. Well, on your own head be it (not literally we trust). This must have been right at the outset of the post-war package tour trade, so trend setting again!
The previous occupant of your room at Valley must have been a strange cove. Who on earth would want to paint their stove at all, never mind in gloss paint? Had the walls been done in some "hint of white" arty emulsion? Co-ordinated drapes and scatter cushions as well perhaps? It reminds one again of the classic Yorkshire observation that, "The whole world's gone queer 'cept thee and me, and I'm not so sure about thee!".
Never mind, you have now re-attained the best commissioned rank in the RAF. An elegant sufficiency of dosh (24/- pd, what on earth will you do with it all?) and usually nothing more irksome than a barrack block inventory to distract from one's primary role of paid member of the world's best flying club. Now don't go and mess that bit up, will you? Oh, you will? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!