Never ask a Kiwi for directions

My friends,

I've left Sydney and am now back In Queenstown for 11 days of skiing. That's if I can stay in one piece for 11 consecutive days of skiing, of course. Those of you who have been skiing with me in the past will, perhaps rightly, doubt whether this is possible.

My first mishap of note happened this afternoon (day two on the slopes). Picture this scene: I'm halfway up Coronet Peak approaching a fork where the blue run I'm going down splits into two. Now I know from the map I had earlier in the day (which was lost somehow after I was taken out, at speed, by a snowboarder) that one of the runs now facing me is the continuation of the blue I've been skiing down till now, while the other is a black run. I pull up beside someone who has stopped to take a photo and ask him which one is the blue run. "Down there, bro" says he, pointing to the right hand fork. Off I go, happily humming Willie McBride to myself (my favourite skiing tune.) Very quickly I realise that I've been given a bum steer. Unfortunately, I come to this realisation while travelling straight down the black slope. My humming stops rather abruptly and I try to turn left and stop (if only it had been a right turn, I might have made it.) I can't get an edge, though, so now I'm sliding out of control towards the fence on the left hand side. For some reason, I decide it would be a good idea to try and turn facewards down the slope again, but this attempted manouvere results in both my legs going from under me and me hitting the fence - feet first or arse first - I'm not quite sure. As I extract myself and my skis from the fence, I offer up a prayer for the Kiwi photographer...

Happily, I made it down to the bottom pretty much in one piece, apart from the big toe on my right foot, which on examination two hours ago was turning a nice shade of purple.

The timing of my arrival in Queenstown was poor - it's the second week of the school holidays and the slopes are awash with kamikaze kids. At least I'm here for two weeks, so it should be quieter next week. I'm not sure how long I can endure the painfully slow queues for the chair lifts, with the little darlings shouting away incessantly... After Queenstown, I'm off to the States to follow Man United's pre-season tour with Dave Phelan. If the last pre-season tour we went to (in Amsterdam) is anything to go by, this may prove more hazardous for the health than the slopes of Queenstown...

God willing, I'll be back in Dublin for a week on 4 August, and hope to catch up with as many of you as possible then before I head off to Budapest for three weeks (I just can't bring myself to stop travelling.)

That's my lot for now.