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.