About two months ago, after a course of travel literature and some
back numbers of _The Badminton Magazine_, I became infected with a
desire to spend a winter in the Alps, skating, sliding, curling and
yodelling in the intervals of ski-ing, skijoring, skilacking and
skihandlung. The very names of the pastimes conjured up a picture
of swift and healthy activity. As the pamphlets assured me, I should
return a new man; and, though I am greatly attached to the old one, I
recognised that improvement was possible.
I don't remember how it came about that I finally chose Freidegg
among the multiplicity of winter-sport stations whose descriptions
approximated to those of Heaven. I expect Frederick forced the choice
upon me; Frederick had been to Switzerland every winter from 1906 to
1913 and knew the ropes. I somehow gathered that the ropes were of
unusual complexity.
The entire journey was passed among winter-sporters of a certain
type. From their conversation I was able to learn that Badeloden
was formerly overrun by Germans; that Franzheim was excellent if you
stayed at the Grand, but at the Kurhaus the guests were unsociable,
while at the Oberalp you were not done well and the central-heating
was inefficient.
I ventured a few questions about the sport available, but was gently
rebuked by the silence which followed before conversation was resumed
in a further discussion of comforts and social amenities.
On arrival at the hotel I took out my skates, but, on Frederick's
advice, hid them again. "Don't let people see that you are a newcomer;
there won't be any skating for some weeks yet," said he.
"But why not?" I objected. "The ice must be at least six inches
thick."
"Well, it isn't done," he replied. "One's first week is spent in
settling down; you can't go straight on the ice without preparation."
On the third day a Sports' Meeting was held, as the result of which
a programme of the season was published. It was announced that there
would be, weekly, three dances and one bridge tournament; a theatrical
performance would be given once a fortnight, and the blank evenings
filled with either a concert or an entertainment. I began to wonder
how I could squeeze in time for sleep.
In order that boredom might not overtake the guests before evening
came, a magnificent tea was served from four to six. During the
afternoon one could visit the other hotels of the place and usually
found some function in progress. We were not expected to breakfast
before ten, and the short time that remained before lunch was spent
in a walk to the rink, where we would solemnly take a few steps on the
ice, murmur, "Not in condition yet," and return to the hotel.
After about a fortnight of this I announced to Frederick that I was
going to skate, no matter how far from perfection the ice proved to
be.
Frederick was indignant.
"You'll make yourself both conspicuous and unpopular. The two
Marriotts are giving an exhibition to-morrow; if you spoil the ice for
them their show will be ruined."
"Very well, then," said I, "I will borrow some ski and mess about on
the snow."
"You can't do that," he replied, horrified; "the professionals are
coming next week for the open competition, and if they don't find
clean snow--"
"All right; I'll get one of those grid-irons and course down the
ice-run. I suppose that's what the ice-run is for," said I bitterly.
"And spoil the Alpine Derby, which you know is fixed for the tenth?"
Frederick addressed me with some severity. "Look here--you must choose
your sport and stick to it. I am a ski-er; you don't find me skating
or bobbing or curling."
"Or ski-ing," I added.
"Before ski-ing," he informed me, "one must have one's ski in perfect
condition. Mine are improving daily."
Frederick in fact spent his short mornings in giving instructions as
to how his ski were to be oiled and rubbed. All the most complicated
operations of unction and massage were performed upon them, and all
the time Frederick watched over them as over a sick child.
Next I was told that the height of the season had arrived. The round
of indoor entertainments went on and almost daily the guests walked to
some near point to witness performances by professionals who seemed to
tour the country for that purpose.
Just when there appeared to be a slight prospect of some general
outdoor activity (and Frederick's ski were pronounced perfect) a
thaw occurred. I am bound to say that the event was received
philosophically. Not a single member of the company made any
complaint; they faced adversity like true Britons and boldly sat
in the warm hotel to save themselves for the evening. Nor did their
distress put them off their feed; they punished the tea unmercifully,
showing scarcely a sign of the aching sorrow which devoured them.
Soon it froze again. The daily visit to the ice was made and
Frederick's ski were once more put into training.
As for me I began to believe that there was something shameful or
disgraceful in my desire to skate. So I left secretly for Sicily. Here
I can enjoy passive entertainment without being unpleasantly chilled.
Well, a few days ago I received from Frederick a letter, from which
the following is a quotation: "The final thaw has now occurred and the
season is ended. It has been one of the most successful on record. The
full programme was carried out to the letter; I wish you had been here
for the last Fancy Dress. My ski were really fit and I was looking
forward to some great days on the snow. I think I made a bit of a hit
too, playing _Lord Twinkles_ in _The Gay Life_."
The ski will no doubt miss Frederick's affectionate attention; he was
very fond of them.
Yesterday, by the purest accident I came across Claudia, like myself
enjoying the warmth and sunshine.
"Oh, you've been to Freidegg; how lovely! I went to Kestaag this year
and was very glad to leave. Nothing to do in the evening but sit round
a fire. All day the hotel was like a wilderness and outside nothing
but a lot of men falling about in the snow. They were too tired to do
anything during the evening. It was horrid. Next time I shall be more
careful and choose a nice bright place like Freidegg."
Next time I too shall be more careful.
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[Illustration: "ANOTHER BLOW FOR THE COALITION."
_Sombre Reveller._ "IS THIS PADDINGTON?"
_Porter._ "PADDINGTON? NO! IT'S MERSTHAM. WHY, YOU AIN'T EVEN ON THE
RIGHT RAILWAY. THIS IS SOUTH-EASTERN AND CHATHAM."
_Reveller._ "THERE Y'ARE, Y'SEE. THAT'S WHAT COMES OF GOV'MENT CONTROL
OF RAILWAYS."]
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