How it all began...

Right, don't know what happened there, thought I was about to set sail on my blog voyage, but will obviously have to start again. How exciting. As I have already said once, here goes...

First, the fall. Really that's the least exciting bit for me, but maybe not for you so I will recount a few gory details. Skiing, of course. What started out as 'skiing over a small lip' has needless to say become 'flying off a massive cornice'; believe what you want. Anyway, on taking air (a little or a lot, depending on your point of view) was confronted with 2 ice boulders. Large ones, regardless of point of view. Almost missed first, but pinged left ski off, shin of left foot struck second a toute vitesse. Snapped my tibia. Those blue runs can be steeper than they look.

Tom told me where to go, but I didn't do what I was told. Luckily, because if I had I might now be dictacting the 'Broken Neck Diaries'. Note to self: never trust another lawyer. Anyway, he used his newly acquired Scott Miller blast turns (harder on a blue run than they look) to get to me and blood wagon summoned. New territory for me from now on. Knew I'd snapped a leg, but fracture still encased in boot, so no real pain. What was beginning to hurt was the mere thought of getting the wretched boot off. You see, I'm not very brave. Ever since Mark Chapple jumped on me from a great height (honest) in the Under 14 A's vs B's on Memorial Park in about 1984, I have not dealt with pain well. In fact, probably started long before then, but I'm not that self deprecating; and Chapple was BIG, and mean.

Tom was very helpful, once he'd told me what he really thought of me. Offered me beer and/or genepi; thanks, but no. As if it is not embarrasing enough breaking your leg on a blue run right in front of a terrace bar full of punters. I didn't think I could deal with the humiliation of then spilling a demi pression all over my North Face. So we sat. And sat. And sat. So much for being swept up within minutes of a fall; not a bit of it. Half a bleeding hour. I know that chair lift to the top of Maroly is slow, but that was ridiculous. I mean, I could have been really hurt, not just broken my leg.

Getting into this now, but have to get up and go to see the surgeon, which is really the end of the story (so far). Lots more to tell you, so back soon (I hope)...