Good grief not another holiday

Due to the sheer volume of material and submissions pouring through our doors sadly we are not able to do our usual and report on this day to day but can only offer our readers a brief overview of the fun and games that he had with Boris, Glenn, Daf and Polly.

The egg started to splatter on our hero’s face not long after the journey to Alberta began when he asserted that “Minneapolis (where they were due to change planes) is a pretty small airport, should be no bother getting through there in 40 minutes.” Of course Minneapolis airport is enormous and they had to dash from one end to the other to make their connection and only just did.

On arrival at Calgary airport they threw their kit into the Dodge Durango (enormous truck type affair) and set off for Banff…without a map or asking for directions. Some 50 miles down the road he realised he was heading the wrong way and they had to do a U-turn.

By the time they arrived at their hotel he was convinced that in light of this form the place was bound to be a fleapit. Astonishingly it was not and we can heartily recommend the Douglas Fir resort.

And so the skiing began. Polly and our hero quickly established a pattern of just pointing down the fall line and hoping they could stop at the bottom whilst Dafydd (on only his second trip to the slopes) struggled manfully to keep up meanwhile Boris and Glenn on their boards buzzed around annoyingly.




With the days very full of skiing the evenings were of course filled with eating (mainly elk and caribou) and drinking but also, sadly, a great deal of boasting by Boris about his exploits in Washington. Frankly his efforts to crowbar in references to the young filly were embarrassing. Fortunately for all concerned he turned his ankle over and was in a great deal of pain whilst on the slopes such that he couldn’t face it anymore and flew home early to everyone’s relief (shurely dismay? – ed.).

With all this going on the spectre of Hoots, Sin, Buck, Douglas and the rest of the mad Canucks descending on them was getting more and more real. We remain in a bit of a haze about the precise details of the two nights they spent in town but we think the pictures probably tell the tale.






With a quick trip to Lake Louise for a day snuck into the agenda they were all well and truly knackered and ready for home come the end of the last day’s skiing and whilst the comic gods would dictate that the journey would be a disaster sadly they let us down on this occasion and they all made it home with great ease and convenience (well apart from Polly and Dafydd who had to drive to West Wales but we will gloss over that).

A fantastic trip ending with firm declarations that it must be repeated soon.