Friday, 24 February 2012

There is no such thing as an accident; it is fate misnamed.

Thanks to Napoleon Bonaparte for this pearl of wisdom. I'm sure Guido appreciates it.

"Many theories have been presented as to why Napoleon is traditionally depicted with his hand in his waistcoat. Some of these theories include: that he had a stomach ulcer, he was winding his watch, he had an itchy skin disease, that in his era it was impolite to put your hands in your pockets, he had breast cancer, he had a deformed hand, he kept a perfumed sachet in his vest that he'd sniff surreptitiously, and that painters don't like to paint hands."

Somewhat and rather horrifically ironic, this. I'm thinking Guido, dear Swiss skiing friend, will be holding his arm like that for some time to come.

We were skiing down the mountain merrily and a blood wagon came past...

 of those occasions where you don't want to look but somehow you're compelled. Skiing next to the blood wagon was David, another friend, and in it was Guido. He had had a horrendous crash, badly smashed his R Lower arm and has broken his back in two places (but can still wiggle his toes)

An accident? He went for a black ski jump... twice. The first time it went well, the second time...madness really. Fate? I don't know. Who knows?

I do know that the longer the ski holiday goes on the more I think...I've got away so far without injury. SURELY my good fortune can't last?

Guido's certainly didn't. Quite.

We learned that someone died on that jump the day before.