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It was now 7pm. I was exhausted following the ten-hour hitch and getting a bit desperate as car after car passed me, despite the placard I held which read 'FRANCE: £10?' Just as the streetlights began to buzz a van screeched to a halt a couple of hundred metres down the road, I grabbed my impossibly heavy rucksack and lurched after them. "Ten Quid?" he asked, before opening the door of their small van. I was to share the back with several crates of beer that they'd just bought in the duty free...

European Tales: Switzerland 1996, a lengthy tale

Joseph Tame
2006-06-30 17:53:26

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Alf and myself. The Disco was tediously boring, so we resorted to a drinking competition. At two in the morning we'd lost Katrin who had the key to our room. Never mind, we thought as we staggered there, she must have already gone to bed. Unfortunately for us there was no sign of her, and we were forced to sleep in a freezing cold, tiled, fourth floor corridor. We were so drunk however that we didn't really mind. It turned out that she was never one to be trusted: when she left Scheidegg she raided the petty cash, and Frau von Almen set Interpol on her trail.

Mid-February brought tensions between Alex and myself to the surface again. This time it ended on a violent note, when he slapped me around the face a couple of times, and grabbed me by the throat after I had told him he was stupid! I was totally shocked by the experience as I have a strong dislike of physical violence and have rarely experienced any directed towards me. Things became very difficult after that, and for a whole month the two of us found it impossible to look at, let alone speak to one another. It was an extremely painful and draining time for us, but it seemed that nothing would break the deadlock. We were both at fault, and neither of us would concede to the other. It took a monumental event to sort things out between us. I'd had a particularly difficult day.
The Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau provide a beautiful backdrop to Kleine scheidegg

At Kleine Scheidegg a Tipi capable of holding well over one hundred people had been built to house a ski-bar, complete with Indian hangings and Bison Head. Despite the fact that I was due to work that night, I persuaded Alf to accompany me for a drink or two. He wasn't that keen, but on hearing that our new Secretary Dana was there he quickly came around to the idea. The next few hours were great fun; initially feeling so depressed I downed vodka after vodka (mixed with Red Bull), until by four o'clock I'd managed ...