I was just prayed for.
No really.
I thought that being 'shushed' at a Moody Blues concert was bad enough.
In front of a room full of about forty people, the reverend Dr Bob prayed that the voice of the serpent be silenced.
I can't believe it. I was ....lost for words, speechless, gobsmacked. Silenced.
That voice, the serpent's voice, was my voice.
Dr Bob was expounding on the story, obviously from a literalist perspective, of Cain and Abel. You remember how they both offered sacrifices to God, and God favoured Abel's gift over Cains, or was it the other way round?
He invited us to say what this story tells us about the nature of God. I said that, as a father, I would never be displeased with a gift from any of my children, nor favour a gift from one child over another.
I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. I'm fuming.
***
I had turned up to a 'taster day' this morning for a theological course. It was sold as intellectually challenging and to a BA level with points to go on to an MA it you wanted to. I'm looking for an intellectual challenge and I thought this might fit the bill, being challenging and academic, I thought, would allow me to ask some difficult questions, and increase my understanding of the various theological questions that are out there.
The session began with worship. Straight forward enough and not too much raising of hands an extempore utterances. Tolerable certainly. Then we were introduced to Dr Bob. An American who works as a prison chaplin and does lecture tours. He started off pretty well really. I thought 'I can work with this guy'. Apparently, he'd worked in South America for many years with the poor and disenfranchised. He went there after graduating with a history degree to teach the natives how to cultivate the land, he explained, recognising the naive and patronising nature of his ambition, but saying he wanted to do something to balance what the Americans were doing in Central and South America. 'Good guy' I thought. He was reacting against the foreign policies of Reagan and Bush senior. Yeah, well done fella. There were pictures of the house he and his wife lived in, and of the local peasants doing bible class. He didn't say if he had children, I'm guessing not. The showed the water projects he'd been involved in, and the full crop yields he, though God, had managed to grow. He said how he'd been influenced by 'Liberation Theology' which was current at the time, and how it was for Westerners to be changed by their work with the disadvantaged as much as the other way round. So I was warming to the guy and thinking about committing the time to this course.
Then he started with the Genesis passages, and what the verses said, and dissecting each sentence to draw out every fragment of meaning. It went well to start with. About how bountiful God is in creation and how much He loves us etc.
I thought his treatment of Eve was rather harsh but put it down to a transatlantic thing. You know, how terrible Eve was and how she was destined to need to search for a husband and have the Pain of childbirth for every more. I was thinking that anytime he was going to say how this story is an allegory to explain how human kind has got to where it is, but no, not yet. Then he moved on to what it must feel like to be out of favour, to be an outcast, an underclass. He talked of his current work as a prison chaplain, and how the gangsters and villains in his prison had empathised with the message that God was there for them, and how they had changed. No really, not just to get themselves earlier parole.
So that's how we got on to Cain and Abel. And that's how the voice of the serpent, previously banished by God, had slithered into the room and had voiced, through my voice, a question that Dr Bob didn't like. So he banished the serpent, in the name of God. And I walked out.
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Ayiende's birthday
It's been a funny old week, what with Ayiende's 60th birthday, the relentless pressures of work, and the magnificent victory at Old Trafford which pretty much seals the Premiership this season.
It's hard not to feel a tinge of sympathy for City supporters when, however close they get, they can never quite get there. So it was at the derby game of Saturday. It's not often I get to go, since tickets are in big demand, and not often you get to witness such a brilliant goal. It was a moment of complete brilliance which happened right in front of my eyes, and it took just such a moment to beat a team who weren't at all bad.
In relation to work though, I seem to have found myself in charge of monitoring the activity of the Central Manchester Foundation Trust and designing the quality indicators to which they have to aspire. I don't mind the challenge, but it means fitting in a load of meetings into my diary and without extra payments. How did that happen? We shall see how it works out. It could be fun, and already there are signs that the CMFT are starting to sit up a bit and take things more seriously.
Ayiende's party was both joyful and poigniant. Joyful because we had fun and nearly everyone who has been playing football on a Monday night over the years was there. Ayiende has, for thirty years, been making sure the ground was booked. I've been going for a mere ten years or so. Poigniant, because over that time you build up very strong friendships, even though we might meet up only once a week, and exchange banter on the pitch and in the changing room. It's a guy thing. It's how we do it. And it was really moving to hear Ayiende talk of what it had meant to him, especially when he had his heart attack last year.
Even Kurt was there, City supporting Kurt, and he took the abuse like a man. Respect to Kurt, and mega-respect Aiyende.
It's hard not to feel a tinge of sympathy for City supporters when, however close they get, they can never quite get there. So it was at the derby game of Saturday. It's not often I get to go, since tickets are in big demand, and not often you get to witness such a brilliant goal. It was a moment of complete brilliance which happened right in front of my eyes, and it took just such a moment to beat a team who weren't at all bad.
In relation to work though, I seem to have found myself in charge of monitoring the activity of the Central Manchester Foundation Trust and designing the quality indicators to which they have to aspire. I don't mind the challenge, but it means fitting in a load of meetings into my diary and without extra payments. How did that happen? We shall see how it works out. It could be fun, and already there are signs that the CMFT are starting to sit up a bit and take things more seriously.
Ayiende's party was both joyful and poigniant. Joyful because we had fun and nearly everyone who has been playing football on a Monday night over the years was there. Ayiende has, for thirty years, been making sure the ground was booked. I've been going for a mere ten years or so. Poigniant, because over that time you build up very strong friendships, even though we might meet up only once a week, and exchange banter on the pitch and in the changing room. It's a guy thing. It's how we do it. And it was really moving to hear Ayiende talk of what it had meant to him, especially when he had his heart attack last year.
Even Kurt was there, City supporting Kurt, and he took the abuse like a man. Respect to Kurt, and mega-respect Aiyende.
Friday, 4 February 2011
Gatwick Airport
Waiting for my connection to Manchester. It would be quicker to walk. At an Internet cafe that is old fashioned, dirty and keeps telling me that I only have two minutes left. Now only one minute. I'm not paying any more for this so see you later...32 seconds left.
***
Back home and in bed. Its been an adventurous few days
***
Back home and in bed. Its been an adventurous few days
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Meeting the Judge
9.12am It's the morning of the trial. Well more of a hearing really. I'm still not sure whether I'm the accuser of the accused. I think we are suing each other, mainly to recoup the insurance company's money. So as the time approaches I'm feeling both anxious and unconcerned with the outcome, all at once. The hearing opens in one hour, so I better get dressed. My experience of yesterday's encounter (you'll have to read yesterday's blog for that) reassures me that it will not be a traumatic event, in fact it could be a complete anticlimax. Still, lying around in bed isn't going to help. See you later.
***
11.39am and I'm doing my blog from an Austrian police cell...Only kidding. I'm a free man! Hurray!
Talk about informal. The judge was about forty with longish modern sticking up hair and a long goaty beard. He brought in his fire eating juggling stuff. Only kidding. He wore a tie and suit but looked very casual, but he wouldn't look out of place doing street theatre in Piccadilly.The room was little more than a bare interview room. There were four canteen style tables set in a square. One for the judge, just the same as the others, one each for the co-accused and plaintiffs, and one for the witness. There was no standing up as he came in, in fact he was already in the room. I had seen him unlock the room about five minutes earlier, assuming he was the janitor. I also had an interpreter with me.
Frau Mosser wasn't there. Deanna gave her witness and was cross questioned politely. Then I gave my version of events, which fortunately was brief since I can't remember any of it. 'You are not being made to speak under oath, but you must tell the truth, even if you don't remember,' said the judge through the interpreter. They were keen to know where we had stopped before setting off, which side I'd landed on, where my skies were and a few other things, but all by way of getting the facts straight. There was no attempt to trap me into saying things I didn't mean. They all seemed honestly to be trying to get the truth of what happened.
Apparently I did speak to the police at the time and gave a brief statement, but I genuinely don't remember doing so. Deanna confirmed that I did, on the slopes, so I must have.
Then just as informally the hearing ended. We didn't have to stand for the judge, in fact he carried on writing while we all shook hands and said goodbye. The Judge also said good buy as we trooped out. I thanked Deanna especially for her contribution, support and help. Then I said goodbye to Christoph and here I am. The whole thing has taken less than two hours. Now we wait.
***
6pm I'm really looking forward to getting home now. I need to get back to normality. I feel as though I've been away from my normal routine for too long. Also there's so much to do for next week. Whatever the outcome I feel no malice for the little old Austrian woman who was probably more psychologically traumatised than me, and the whole episode has shown me who truly loves and cares for me. That's more important than any compensation that might be heading my way. Time to get back to my family, after all I have a grandchild on the way.As we were leaving the court the little Tyrolean goblin ran past, looked up at me, giggled sinisterly, and disappeared round the corner.
***
11.39am and I'm doing my blog from an Austrian police cell...Only kidding. I'm a free man! Hurray!
Talk about informal. The judge was about forty with longish modern sticking up hair and a long goaty beard. He brought in his fire eating juggling stuff. Only kidding. He wore a tie and suit but looked very casual, but he wouldn't look out of place doing street theatre in Piccadilly.The room was little more than a bare interview room. There were four canteen style tables set in a square. One for the judge, just the same as the others, one each for the co-accused and plaintiffs, and one for the witness. There was no standing up as he came in, in fact he was already in the room. I had seen him unlock the room about five minutes earlier, assuming he was the janitor. I also had an interpreter with me.
Frau Mosser wasn't there. Deanna gave her witness and was cross questioned politely. Then I gave my version of events, which fortunately was brief since I can't remember any of it. 'You are not being made to speak under oath, but you must tell the truth, even if you don't remember,' said the judge through the interpreter. They were keen to know where we had stopped before setting off, which side I'd landed on, where my skies were and a few other things, but all by way of getting the facts straight. There was no attempt to trap me into saying things I didn't mean. They all seemed honestly to be trying to get the truth of what happened.
Apparently I did speak to the police at the time and gave a brief statement, but I genuinely don't remember doing so. Deanna confirmed that I did, on the slopes, so I must have.
Then just as informally the hearing ended. We didn't have to stand for the judge, in fact he carried on writing while we all shook hands and said goodbye. The Judge also said good buy as we trooped out. I thanked Deanna especially for her contribution, support and help. Then I said goodbye to Christoph and here I am. The whole thing has taken less than two hours. Now we wait.
***
6pm I'm really looking forward to getting home now. I need to get back to normality. I feel as though I've been away from my normal routine for too long. Also there's so much to do for next week. Whatever the outcome I feel no malice for the little old Austrian woman who was probably more psychologically traumatised than me, and the whole episode has shown me who truly loves and cares for me. That's more important than any compensation that might be heading my way. Time to get back to my family, after all I have a grandchild on the way.As we were leaving the court the little Tyrolean goblin ran past, looked up at me, giggled sinisterly, and disappeared round the corner.
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
Meeting Frau Mosser
And there she was, smaller, shorter and older than I expected. She was with her husband and was looking frightened. Before I knew it I was shaking hands with her as Christoph introduced first to the ski expert; then the interpreter; then her lawyer; then her husband, also small and timid; and finally the woman who nearly killed me.
Today has been one of the weirdest days of my life, and not at all what I had thought it would be, for here we were talking, almost chatting, about the events of three years ago almost to the day.
Christoph picked me up from the hotel at 7.20 this morning, and we drove Brixen. That was how we were going to get to the place where the accident happened. On the way I asked about Austria, and we talked nervously about Manchester United. He also told me that there would be a ski expert there. The expert had once trained the Austrian women's ski team, so he knows his stuff. Her lawyer would be there too, but Christoph wasn't sure if she would be there. It turns out she was, and with her husband. Apparently her lawyer had said that she was very apprehensive about joining us. He wasn't clear whether that was because of visiting the site, for she was knocked unconscious too, or seeing me. I have no idea whether she knows what happened to me or what she feels about what I had to go through. I know that after quickly regaining consciousness and a short stay in hospital she went home unharmed.
For me it was different. For me I was off work for three months and then only gradually returned to work. For me I had to endure painful facio-maxillary surgery and occulo-plastic repair of a fractured orbit, and an hilarious but physically draining twenty four hour drive home across Northern Europe in a pensioned out transport ambulance and a couple of psychotic ex-paramedics.
So we meet up with all the relevant people. I hire some skies for the day and we catch a couple of lifts to Brixen. I really don't know what to think or how to behave. It's all too uncomfortable. We don't share the lifts and I avoid eye contact. After a hairy ski down we arrive at the point above where the accident happened. The ski expert spends a lot of time with her, getting her story right in his head. Her husband listens patiently but doesn't interfere , only to confirm what she says or expand when asked to. Meanwhile I'm looking down at this steep red and wondering if I should get out of the way of the passing hurtling ski traffic. The interpreter is nice and helpful. She was an Austrian downhill skier herself, and helps me down the slope. 'Come on it's OK, don't be frightened. Slide down if you like or do some turns if you prefer'. The steep red looks steeper when you have to think about it. 'Put your weight on the down hill ski and you'll be OK, and bend that knee more'. It's just like a ski lesson, and strangely just what the ski instructor says. It works and we end up near where the accident actually happened.
Tom and Deanna are there, and so is Dave. It's so good to have their support. Dave wasn't there at the accident, but he's skied this piste 'every day for thirty years' as he tells the ski expert, and he can help with explaining the changes to the piste since the accident. The other two will give there stories in due course.
'In the morning' I begin to tell the ski expert 'we had decided to go to Going'. The name of the place had interested me and it was a good day's outing to be in time to get back. I never got there. 'Roger was our leader, as he knew the way. With us was Thomas and Deanna Nappoli and Sally'. 'We came down the this piste' pointing to the gentle blue behind him, 'and stopped at a plateau area for everyone to catch up. Roger was leading, then Thomas, then me and Deanna and Sally, I think. We waited for a gap in the traffic coming down that slope,' they knew I meant the steep red. 'Roger set off, Thomas followed, and I followed him'. 'Were you going fast?' asked the ski expert. 'No of course, we had just set off' I replied, trying to hold back from mimicking his Austrian accent. 'Then I don't remember' I said, 'there was a big bang and everything went everywhere.'
From what Deanna recalls, she had seen my assailant speeding down the red, and had shouted 'Ivan!' but I don't know if I remember that or have made it up in my mind since. The main thing I remember is trying to get up, and Sally, by now cradling my head, telling me the air ambulance would be here soon and not to move. 'Surely we can ski down to the Frankalm' I had said. Sally hadn't needed to answer.
'Were the skis damaged?' asked the expert, instantly recognising the daftness of the question to me. I shrug my shoulders and explained that I never saw them again. Dave helpfully explained that they had been taken back at the hire shop and they were fine.
I swear I see the Tyrolean goblin ski past and look at me straight in the eyes, and laugh. Or was it a smile? Anyway she is gone before a can blink.
There were a few more technical questions which I was unable to answer and then he turned to Deanna for her story. Thomas and Dave chipped in where relevant. The expert had left his ruck-sac on the piste at the site of the accident, and he kept taking measurements from different perspectives. He seemed to be amazingly though. 'Oh he knows what he's doing' confirms Dave. What his opinion will be about who is to blame for the accident will be the main evidence, but the court wont receive it for a few weeks yet. Christoph says he is amongst the best and that to him it doesn't matter who is to blame, just to give an honest assessment. I hope his reputation depends upon it.
At the trial tomorrow we will simply be telling the judge what we did and saw, rather like this morning, and then he will probably adjourn while waiting for the expert's report, and the medical report. We all say a cheery goodbye to each other, as if we'd just been out for a normal morning's skiing, and agree to meet up tomorrow at ten. It didn't seem right to say 'see you in court' somehow.
Christoph and I set off back to Brixen and then Innsbruck. I'm pretty tired by now, but I must get off to see my medical expert. It turns out he's her expert too. A General Surgeon, but an expert in medico-legal cases, I'm assured. Apart from not being able to find the place at first, it was tucked away somewhere, this was a pretty straight forward business. Again it was almost jolly. We had another interpreter (I hope my insurance is paying for this), and he asked me what injuries I suffered, how much time I had taken off, what surgery was performed, and what I was still not able to do. Well I see double when tired, I don't play football anymore, I am unable to oppose my incisors, and its still numb/painful in my upper jaw. 'You must tell him everything' said the American interpreter, but I couldn't, well not with her there.
So there I was, three years earlier, being comforted by Sally. The helicopter came and took the other injured party. She had lost consciousness and was the priority. I was on my back feeling blood come down my nose and out of my ear. Eventually the helicopter returned. The paramedic or doctor leaned over me and his first words, I kid you not, as they say, were 'have you got good insurance?'
Up until then I hadn't really thought about it. When the question was asked I realised I wasn't sure. Was I meant to phone the insurance company before coming, or was there automatic cover? Still I wasn't going to lie about on this particular icy hillside at this particular time so I said 'Yes'. Lucky for me, the answer was yes. My insurance has covered absolutely everything, including this trial and including my surgery back home, and the two helicopter emergency rides, and travel back to England from the Innsbruck University Hospital. Oh yes, they have been good to me. We'll see if we can get some of their money back tomorrow, but for now I'm going to get some food and have a drink.
Today has been one of the weirdest days of my life, and not at all what I had thought it would be, for here we were talking, almost chatting, about the events of three years ago almost to the day.
Christoph picked me up from the hotel at 7.20 this morning, and we drove Brixen. That was how we were going to get to the place where the accident happened. On the way I asked about Austria, and we talked nervously about Manchester United. He also told me that there would be a ski expert there. The expert had once trained the Austrian women's ski team, so he knows his stuff. Her lawyer would be there too, but Christoph wasn't sure if she would be there. It turns out she was, and with her husband. Apparently her lawyer had said that she was very apprehensive about joining us. He wasn't clear whether that was because of visiting the site, for she was knocked unconscious too, or seeing me. I have no idea whether she knows what happened to me or what she feels about what I had to go through. I know that after quickly regaining consciousness and a short stay in hospital she went home unharmed.
For me it was different. For me I was off work for three months and then only gradually returned to work. For me I had to endure painful facio-maxillary surgery and occulo-plastic repair of a fractured orbit, and an hilarious but physically draining twenty four hour drive home across Northern Europe in a pensioned out transport ambulance and a couple of psychotic ex-paramedics.
So we meet up with all the relevant people. I hire some skies for the day and we catch a couple of lifts to Brixen. I really don't know what to think or how to behave. It's all too uncomfortable. We don't share the lifts and I avoid eye contact. After a hairy ski down we arrive at the point above where the accident happened. The ski expert spends a lot of time with her, getting her story right in his head. Her husband listens patiently but doesn't interfere , only to confirm what she says or expand when asked to. Meanwhile I'm looking down at this steep red and wondering if I should get out of the way of the passing hurtling ski traffic. The interpreter is nice and helpful. She was an Austrian downhill skier herself, and helps me down the slope. 'Come on it's OK, don't be frightened. Slide down if you like or do some turns if you prefer'. The steep red looks steeper when you have to think about it. 'Put your weight on the down hill ski and you'll be OK, and bend that knee more'. It's just like a ski lesson, and strangely just what the ski instructor says. It works and we end up near where the accident actually happened.
Tom and Deanna are there, and so is Dave. It's so good to have their support. Dave wasn't there at the accident, but he's skied this piste 'every day for thirty years' as he tells the ski expert, and he can help with explaining the changes to the piste since the accident. The other two will give there stories in due course.
'In the morning' I begin to tell the ski expert 'we had decided to go to Going'. The name of the place had interested me and it was a good day's outing to be in time to get back. I never got there. 'Roger was our leader, as he knew the way. With us was Thomas and Deanna Nappoli and Sally'. 'We came down the this piste' pointing to the gentle blue behind him, 'and stopped at a plateau area for everyone to catch up. Roger was leading, then Thomas, then me and Deanna and Sally, I think. We waited for a gap in the traffic coming down that slope,' they knew I meant the steep red. 'Roger set off, Thomas followed, and I followed him'. 'Were you going fast?' asked the ski expert. 'No of course, we had just set off' I replied, trying to hold back from mimicking his Austrian accent. 'Then I don't remember' I said, 'there was a big bang and everything went everywhere.'
From what Deanna recalls, she had seen my assailant speeding down the red, and had shouted 'Ivan!' but I don't know if I remember that or have made it up in my mind since. The main thing I remember is trying to get up, and Sally, by now cradling my head, telling me the air ambulance would be here soon and not to move. 'Surely we can ski down to the Frankalm' I had said. Sally hadn't needed to answer.
'Were the skis damaged?' asked the expert, instantly recognising the daftness of the question to me. I shrug my shoulders and explained that I never saw them again. Dave helpfully explained that they had been taken back at the hire shop and they were fine.
I swear I see the Tyrolean goblin ski past and look at me straight in the eyes, and laugh. Or was it a smile? Anyway she is gone before a can blink.
There were a few more technical questions which I was unable to answer and then he turned to Deanna for her story. Thomas and Dave chipped in where relevant. The expert had left his ruck-sac on the piste at the site of the accident, and he kept taking measurements from different perspectives. He seemed to be amazingly though. 'Oh he knows what he's doing' confirms Dave. What his opinion will be about who is to blame for the accident will be the main evidence, but the court wont receive it for a few weeks yet. Christoph says he is amongst the best and that to him it doesn't matter who is to blame, just to give an honest assessment. I hope his reputation depends upon it.
At the trial tomorrow we will simply be telling the judge what we did and saw, rather like this morning, and then he will probably adjourn while waiting for the expert's report, and the medical report. We all say a cheery goodbye to each other, as if we'd just been out for a normal morning's skiing, and agree to meet up tomorrow at ten. It didn't seem right to say 'see you in court' somehow.
Christoph and I set off back to Brixen and then Innsbruck. I'm pretty tired by now, but I must get off to see my medical expert. It turns out he's her expert too. A General Surgeon, but an expert in medico-legal cases, I'm assured. Apart from not being able to find the place at first, it was tucked away somewhere, this was a pretty straight forward business. Again it was almost jolly. We had another interpreter (I hope my insurance is paying for this), and he asked me what injuries I suffered, how much time I had taken off, what surgery was performed, and what I was still not able to do. Well I see double when tired, I don't play football anymore, I am unable to oppose my incisors, and its still numb/painful in my upper jaw. 'You must tell him everything' said the American interpreter, but I couldn't, well not with her there.
So there I was, three years earlier, being comforted by Sally. The helicopter came and took the other injured party. She had lost consciousness and was the priority. I was on my back feeling blood come down my nose and out of my ear. Eventually the helicopter returned. The paramedic or doctor leaned over me and his first words, I kid you not, as they say, were 'have you got good insurance?'
Up until then I hadn't really thought about it. When the question was asked I realised I wasn't sure. Was I meant to phone the insurance company before coming, or was there automatic cover? Still I wasn't going to lie about on this particular icy hillside at this particular time so I said 'Yes'. Lucky for me, the answer was yes. My insurance has covered absolutely everything, including this trial and including my surgery back home, and the two helicopter emergency rides, and travel back to England from the Innsbruck University Hospital. Oh yes, they have been good to me. We'll see if we can get some of their money back tomorrow, but for now I'm going to get some food and have a drink.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Meeting my Advocate
Guess what, there's a congress of psychiatrists meeting in Innsbruck this week. I met a couple of them briefly last night. It's about psychosis. 'Why Innsbruck and not Vienna?' I asked intelligently. 'Oh the skiing of course'. Of course, how silly to think there was any other reason. These two have come from Brisbane. 'To escape the floods?' again showing off my all round knowledge. 'To escape the patients' they reply, half joking. I went to bed.
Today I am meeting my solicitor. I have a nice lie in, a leisurely German breakfast and spend some great 'me' time playing on this very computer. Soon it's time for lunch before my two o'clock appointment. There's a sandwich shop in Bozner Platz and that's what I have, brie and salad, and a coffee. As I'm eating, I notice the people around me. They all seem to have very angular faces and sharp pointed noses, wide mouths and thin lips. I wonder if this is the typical Tyrolean facies. Not everyone looks like this, but a lot do, and rather pale as well. Suddenly I start to feel as though I'm in a Hans Christian Anderson story and the faces of the people look more pointed, and the heads get larger in proportion to their bodies. They seem to be talking about me, some even smiling knowingly to each other about me. I wonder if they're all psychiatrists at this conference, and at the same time turning into witches and goblins and sorcerers.
If you were psychotic, how would you know?
I wake from this brief day dream as the alarm on my phone tells me it's time to go to my solicitors chambers. Christoph is my advocate and he will take me through what's happening over the next few days.
We will meet tomorrow at 7.20am and go to the site of the accident. I explain my reluctance to do this, and if it is possible for me not to go. 'Zeeez feelings are qvite normal' he saying reassuringly and says that the legal system is calm in Austria, rather matter of fact and unemotional, so 'zere is no need to vorry'.
There will be a ski expert there who will listen to our respective stories, look at the lie of the land and make a judgement about who is at fault. It seems clear that it can't be me. How else could the impact be on my cheek bone?
Deanna will also meet us there. She's my witness and was behind me. She saw the whole thing, and has been particularly keen to prosecute the case as she is herself a nervous skier and hates these macho locals who ski too fast.
Then I'll be taken to see a medical expert who will go through the injuries and decide what damage has been done to me. Upon this examination will depend whatever compensation is due, if any. The trial date is 3rd, Thursday. Christoph thinks it wont take too long, as it's a matter of the experts presenting their opinions and the judge making a judgement.
I feel much more confident that everything is in place now for the trial. I am going to have a little nap, then have a stroll round Innsbruck.
***
Dom St Jakob or the Cathedral of St James, is beautiful inside. The marble is real marble, but the dome ceilings are not. The cathedral was bombed in the second world war, by the Americans, and only the pillars remained. Everything has had to be renovated since.
The original ceiling and the new ones are both flat, but the frescoes are such as to give the illusion of domes.
The alter is typically Catholic with a marvelously ornate silver backdrop forming a huge picture frame to a valuable painting of the Virgin Mother and Child.The Madonna is portrayed in simple clothes, with red hair and without the previously bejeweled and sparkling crown. The reason, we are told by the guide, is that this is Martin Luther country and he was keen to make the Virgin Mother as recognisable and identifiable to ordinary people as possible.
I wanted to ask how that all fitted with it being a Catholic cathedral, but I wasn't supposed to be even listening in, never mind asking questions. I'd been looking for the cathedral, and when I found it, so did a group of middle aged Asian English speaking gentlemen. They had hired a guide and looked distinctly like a group of psychiatrists. There is also a Hapsburg family grave in the cathedral with a statue of St George slaying a dragon. At least that's what I think he said. I'm not absolutely sure since by now I was getting suspicious looks from the group of shrinks. I continued to hang around but in a slightly detached way so I couldn't quite hear what the guide was saying.
[The House of Habsburg, often Anglicised as Hapsburg and sometimes referred to as the House of Austria, was one of the most important royal houses of Europe and is best known for being responsible for the Holy Roman Emperors between 1438 and 1740, as well as rulers of the Austrian and Spanish Empires and several other countries. Originally from Switzerland, the dynasty first reigned in Austria for over six centuries. A series of dynastic marriages brought Burgundy, Spain, Bohemia, Hungary, and other lands into their grasp. Modern Europe would not have been the same without them]
***
I had found my way to Dom St Jakob by seeing it from the Stadtturm or city tower. This monument rises 31 meters above the town and is next to the Old Town Hall. The 148 steps rise up from street level 51meters and from the balcony you get a panoramic view of the city. Surrounding the city are the snow covered mountains reaching up over 2500 meters above sea level. Today the sky is grey, and the wind makes my stay a brief one.
I had spent a couple of hours wandering the streets and even walked across Innsbruck itself. The river beneath is full, fast flowing and grey-cold. It seems to be too cold for anything to be melting off the mountains but it must be. I wonder what the river is like once spring arrives and all that snow turns to melt water.
The buildings either side of the river bank are multicoloured in an attempt to brighten up the place. They look like old warehouses, but now probably modern flats. They remind me of Amsterdam, but with a bit more space. Away from the river the buildings are exciting and varied. In parts the architecture is reminiscent of Gaudi but elsewhere it is more like a bigger and better York or Chester, with interesting little overhanging back streets and markets. In between there are modern bars and shops that wouldn't look out of place in Manchester itself, but everywhere is clean.
On one bank is a covered market. I go to explore. There are lots of fresh vegetables, presumably imported, cold meat and bakery stalls, and wine stalls, but nobody's in to buy the produce. It's a bit weird, someone seems to have magicked them away. Then I see the goblin woman that I'd seen in the cafe earlier. Maybe she's taken everyone away. Where's Hamlin, it's around here somewhere isn't it? I rub my eyes, and she's gone again. I breath a sigh of relief and carry on.
I wonder around, eyes watering in the cold breeze. This is a city to drift around, and have coffee or a beer and watch time and people go by. On my own I'm a bit worried about getting lost, but actually I don't and everything is fine. By 5.30 it's too cold and too dark to carry on, so I head back to the hotel. Soon it will be time for dinner, an early night and another early rise to establish my fate and responsibility for the ski accident.
Today I am meeting my solicitor. I have a nice lie in, a leisurely German breakfast and spend some great 'me' time playing on this very computer. Soon it's time for lunch before my two o'clock appointment. There's a sandwich shop in Bozner Platz and that's what I have, brie and salad, and a coffee. As I'm eating, I notice the people around me. They all seem to have very angular faces and sharp pointed noses, wide mouths and thin lips. I wonder if this is the typical Tyrolean facies. Not everyone looks like this, but a lot do, and rather pale as well. Suddenly I start to feel as though I'm in a Hans Christian Anderson story and the faces of the people look more pointed, and the heads get larger in proportion to their bodies. They seem to be talking about me, some even smiling knowingly to each other about me. I wonder if they're all psychiatrists at this conference, and at the same time turning into witches and goblins and sorcerers.
If you were psychotic, how would you know?
I wake from this brief day dream as the alarm on my phone tells me it's time to go to my solicitors chambers. Christoph is my advocate and he will take me through what's happening over the next few days.
We will meet tomorrow at 7.20am and go to the site of the accident. I explain my reluctance to do this, and if it is possible for me not to go. 'Zeeez feelings are qvite normal' he saying reassuringly and says that the legal system is calm in Austria, rather matter of fact and unemotional, so 'zere is no need to vorry'.
There will be a ski expert there who will listen to our respective stories, look at the lie of the land and make a judgement about who is at fault. It seems clear that it can't be me. How else could the impact be on my cheek bone?
Deanna will also meet us there. She's my witness and was behind me. She saw the whole thing, and has been particularly keen to prosecute the case as she is herself a nervous skier and hates these macho locals who ski too fast.
Then I'll be taken to see a medical expert who will go through the injuries and decide what damage has been done to me. Upon this examination will depend whatever compensation is due, if any. The trial date is 3rd, Thursday. Christoph thinks it wont take too long, as it's a matter of the experts presenting their opinions and the judge making a judgement.
I feel much more confident that everything is in place now for the trial. I am going to have a little nap, then have a stroll round Innsbruck.
***
Dom St Jakob or the Cathedral of St James, is beautiful inside. The marble is real marble, but the dome ceilings are not. The cathedral was bombed in the second world war, by the Americans, and only the pillars remained. Everything has had to be renovated since.
The original ceiling and the new ones are both flat, but the frescoes are such as to give the illusion of domes.
The alter is typically Catholic with a marvelously ornate silver backdrop forming a huge picture frame to a valuable painting of the Virgin Mother and Child.The Madonna is portrayed in simple clothes, with red hair and without the previously bejeweled and sparkling crown. The reason, we are told by the guide, is that this is Martin Luther country and he was keen to make the Virgin Mother as recognisable and identifiable to ordinary people as possible.
I wanted to ask how that all fitted with it being a Catholic cathedral, but I wasn't supposed to be even listening in, never mind asking questions. I'd been looking for the cathedral, and when I found it, so did a group of middle aged Asian English speaking gentlemen. They had hired a guide and looked distinctly like a group of psychiatrists. There is also a Hapsburg family grave in the cathedral with a statue of St George slaying a dragon. At least that's what I think he said. I'm not absolutely sure since by now I was getting suspicious looks from the group of shrinks. I continued to hang around but in a slightly detached way so I couldn't quite hear what the guide was saying.[The House of Habsburg, often Anglicised as Hapsburg and sometimes referred to as the House of Austria, was one of the most important royal houses of Europe and is best known for being responsible for the Holy Roman Emperors between 1438 and 1740, as well as rulers of the Austrian and Spanish Empires and several other countries. Originally from Switzerland, the dynasty first reigned in Austria for over six centuries. A series of dynastic marriages brought Burgundy, Spain, Bohemia, Hungary, and other lands into their grasp. Modern Europe would not have been the same without them]
***
I had found my way to Dom St Jakob by seeing it from the Stadtturm or city tower. This monument rises 31 meters above the town and is next to the Old Town Hall. The 148 steps rise up from street level 51meters and from the balcony you get a panoramic view of the city. Surrounding the city are the snow covered mountains reaching up over 2500 meters above sea level. Today the sky is grey, and the wind makes my stay a brief one.
I had spent a couple of hours wandering the streets and even walked across Innsbruck itself. The river beneath is full, fast flowing and grey-cold. It seems to be too cold for anything to be melting off the mountains but it must be. I wonder what the river is like once spring arrives and all that snow turns to melt water.
The buildings either side of the river bank are multicoloured in an attempt to brighten up the place. They look like old warehouses, but now probably modern flats. They remind me of Amsterdam, but with a bit more space. Away from the river the buildings are exciting and varied. In parts the architecture is reminiscent of Gaudi but elsewhere it is more like a bigger and better York or Chester, with interesting little overhanging back streets and markets. In between there are modern bars and shops that wouldn't look out of place in Manchester itself, but everywhere is clean.
On one bank is a covered market. I go to explore. There are lots of fresh vegetables, presumably imported, cold meat and bakery stalls, and wine stalls, but nobody's in to buy the produce. It's a bit weird, someone seems to have magicked them away. Then I see the goblin woman that I'd seen in the cafe earlier. Maybe she's taken everyone away. Where's Hamlin, it's around here somewhere isn't it? I rub my eyes, and she's gone again. I breath a sigh of relief and carry on.
I wonder around, eyes watering in the cold breeze. This is a city to drift around, and have coffee or a beer and watch time and people go by. On my own I'm a bit worried about getting lost, but actually I don't and everything is fine. By 5.30 it's too cold and too dark to carry on, so I head back to the hotel. Soon it will be time for dinner, an early night and another early rise to establish my fate and responsibility for the ski accident.
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