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I came careering down the piste at speed and skied slap-bang into some chap who stopped right in front of me. At the time I wasn't aware that I'd broken my left collarbone... following two weeks of immense boredom I was on the verge of insanity, and so when on a trip to my local village I found myself returning to my hotel not only with the bag of apples I'd set out to buy, but also with an Interail ticket, entitling me to free carriage on virtually any train in Europe for a month...
European Tales: Interrail trip around Europe, a lengthy tale
Joseph Tame2006-06-30 17:39:54
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www.tamegoeswild.com
How true this was when in February 2001 I came careering down the piste at speed and skied slap-bang into some chap who stopped right in front of me. At the time I wasn't aware that I'd broken my left collarbone - all I could think of was getting back to the hotel. I knew that something was very wrong, but in order to ski home I just had to block it all from my consciousness. It was thirty minutes later that I completely lost it - sitting on the train on the way to the doctor I discovered the severed bone sticking out - only then did I almost pass out in shock and pain! The doctor soon fixed me up with a bandage and drugs; the strength of these was so great that I embarked upon an eighteen-hour trip off of this planet
Initially, having been granted 7 weeks off work I opted to remain in Kleine Scheidegg. The owners had kindly invited me to stay "as a part of the family" - I saw no point in returning to England in any case. However, following two weeks of immense boredom I was on the verge of insanity, and so when on a trip to my local village I found myself returning to my hotel not only with the bag of apples I'd set out to buy, but also with an Interail ticket, entitling me to free carriage on virtually any train in Europe for one month.
Two days later I'd packed my bag, fallen down the stairs, and made my mind up to head for Paris. The train journey north was relatively pleasant, with the exception of the greasy bald-patch sitting in front of me, and the smelly cat-in-a-box to my left. (Its adoring owner who insisted on speaking French for the duration of the trip - despite my insistence that "Je ne compron pa" accompanied this.)
That night I wrote in my diary; 'On my arrival in Paris Gare de Lyon I was completely lost. In a dazed state my first goal was to get some money. I was also worried about my collarbone - carrying such a heavy
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