A short report by P. R. Hat.

I am not a wise hat. I am not an old hat ...although a sinking feeling of inevitability makes me fear that what I am about to tell you might be. I am not a particularly practical hat. I cannot offer any real protection from the elements nor enforce any serious fashion trend or statement. I serve no real purpose but I do, despite this, consider myself to be an aesthete ...one who has just born witness to something so far removed from acceptable that it shakes me to my very fibres. What follows is this (more than slightly traumatised) hat's account of the week's events in a place appropriately named Bad Hofgastein ...that's 'bad' with a capital 'B' and a capital 'A'. Some of you will find this disturbing.

The first I knew about any of this was when I found myself on a coach full of some thirty to forty members of a club called The BA Ski Club. A curious atmosphere greeted me as I was immediately paired up with one of a short list of potential partners as an apparent forfeit. It wasn't the welcome I was expecting but I embraced my new companion, Ian Prince, with due courtesy ...at least, I did when he finally made it to the bus and stopped making everyone wait for him whilst he stocked up for the journey at the airport supermarket, which had the consequent knock on effect of delaying our arrival at our destination until after the ski hire shop had closed. As we got comfortable together I looked forward to getting better acquainted later in the week with the one they called 'The French Woman' and the other members of the group who had taken the 'scenic tour of terminal 5', whatever that is.

The morning of our first day up the mountain, my mate Ian got himself in a bit of a state after he led himself and several other unsuspecting members of the group off in the wrong direction and consequently made us all late, again ...although I did take comfort in the fact that we would more than likely be spending our second day together as by this time I was becoming quite attached to him. Despite my growing love for him I was still relieved to discover that Ian was in the top group so I felt sure I needn't worry about him cramping my style on the slopes.

As we set off, everyone in group one took great satisfaction in watching group two's instructor, a giant by the name of Gernot, make them do what looked like near heart attack inducing warm up exercises before they got going although in reality I'm sure they really weren't that bad ...little did we know what the fluently bi-lingual David 'Boyo' had in store for us that day as he quickly disappeared down the slope to the size of a blue dot on the horizon ...as was our view of him for most of that day. Ian did his best but I could tell by the volume of fluids seeping up into my lining that the poor guy was finding it tough. But we soldiered on.

On the morning of day two, group two had come up with a new warm up regime whereby they all stood in a circle around one member and tossed them about. The one they called Sandra ('The New') confessed that it was the best time she'd had in ages. Burrett said it was good for him too.

Before we got going, Mr Lucas shamefully demoted himself back down to group two, having previously promoted himself to group one the afternoon before, following the traditional lunchtime group shuffle. In his defence, a number of other members of group one volunteered (some actually begged) to go with him, or in his place, but like a real trooper Lucas took one for the team.

Whilst the hard core among us ran some gates on day two, others fought with equipment malfunctions ...Vice Mayor Fritz had a nasty binding malfunction, leading to an even nastier chin injury, whilst Angela 'Merkel' Siddell had some abuse from her boots but obviously she took it like only a true Siddell can. What a legend. Go Merk.

We made it back to the hotel safely that evening and we were pleased later to be joined by the not-that-small group of unfortunates who had developed a bad case of navigational conflict on the long and complicated 350 metre journey back from the hire shop. Training for the special slalom was arranged for the next morning so everyone followed Christian and Jon's example and got an early night so they would be fit and fresh in the morning. Definitely no-one took Charley the barman hostage until they decided at 3.00am, after approximately 20 gallons of Yegameister, to venture into town until 6.00am, leaving themselves the 'slightly' ambitious target of waking up sober an hour later to embark upon a full day of intensive exercise.

Christian and John were particularly please for the example they set when at the end of the third day they had both enjoyed a great day of skiing in beautiful conditions, in the fullest of health. Super. No-one really knows what everyone else did that day but I spent a lovely day in the company of 'Two Tongues' Andy Oliver.

'Two Tongues' Andy Oliver. Throughout the week we all did our best to integrate with the other hotel guests as seamlessly as possible. Successfully so, I think, making lasting impressions on people like 'angry sauna woman', 'other angry sauna woman', 'angry steam room women', 'the sick couple who wouldn't give up their table' (who for the duration of evening two became the 'are they dead?' couple), 'angry pool room guy' due to the Gluhwein 'incident' (nice one Kate, New Sandra and naked the Jack and Andy), and last but not least 'Permatan' AKA 'Tango Woman'AKA 'Bucks Fizz'AKA 'Something About Mary'AKA 'Lost In The 80s' ...who had clearly had a fight with a bottle of peroxide and lost. Badly (for photographic evidence go to www.rhoff.org.uk) ...will we ever forget her!!?

Day four saw more gate training. I was required to chaperone Jack to make sure he didn't 'mistakenly' end up in any more ladies toilets, as had been the case on day three.

Day five was race day. We were ready. I volunteered to be a fore runner but Fritz already had that covered. The G.S. was a closely fought contest but eventually saw Siddell, Turner and Two Tongues Oliver put in a bold and some said rather stylish 1, 2 & 3 in the men's and Sophie, Jane and New Sandra in the ladies. No-one could really remember what happened in the Special Slalom but everyone agreed that the training of day three really paid off as absolutely no-one crashed or straddled a gate or just simply skied straight past the red after the blue on the exit from the first verticale ...particularly the very wonderful and very gifted reigning champion Christian Siddell... but the end result was a 1, 2, 3 for Two Tongues, Turner and my old mate Ian in the men's and Sophie, New Sandra and The French Woman in the women's. So congratulations to the Two Tongues and New Sandra who were crowned the new champions and who are, incidentally, both graduates of Siddell training camp ...nice job guys :o)

That evening everyone was pretty pooped out after the excitement of the races so we all went to bed early ...much to our relief because when we awoke in the morning we learned that the hotel had been overrun by lunatic, pyromaniac, fire starting, arse whipping, table humping, chefs, surfers, arabs, virgins and trannies not to mention the one and only Amy Winehouse. Still it's not all bad ....Permatan must have been very displeased ...very displeased indeed.

Hotel Security released the following mug shots:

Christian Siddell was particularly pleased that once again he tucked himself up in bed and definitely didn't go out drinking until 4.00am with his instructor, watching new champion Two Tongues Andy Oliver donate his clothes to the local female youth and definitely didn't get lost on his way home resulting in a hysterical phone call to Sarah Tame to say a tearful goodbye. Phew! Close call!

So on the final day everyone was bright eyed and bushy tailed, especially Boyo, and despite the chaos on the buses caused by the closure of a number of slopes due to high winds, Dorf Gastein provided a great final day of skiing. Personally, I thought it sensible to take it a bit easy, not wanting to injure myself on the last day, I wondered back to the hotel a little earlier than usual for some relaxing sauna and steam room action and a dip in the pool.

That night it was early nights all round once again, an example set by Siddell and Burrett, who very wisely got an early night fresh for the 7.00am departure in the morning. Good idea guys.

So there it was, Bad Hofgastein 2009. I'd like to thank British Airways for the opportunity and the experience, for the warmth and companionship they extended to me, to my friends, family, my manufacturers but most of all to my good friends Ian, Two Tongues and Jack without whom it just wouldn't have been the same. Watch out for next year though guys because my name belongs on that trophy.

Until then, it's been emotional.

(P.S. what actually is a 'pratt'?)

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