Fosterian Magazine 1979 - Old Fosterians and Lord Digby's Old Girls

thwarted by the Honesty clan, with the aid of a young farmer, John Manley, andfinally storming out into a blizzard, (which once again taxed the ingenuity ofthestage staffi) muttering threats of revenge and worse.At the end ofthe performance a presentation was made to Mr. McKay, whohas been responsible for the production of these concerts for many years. Hisextremely valuable work in this and in many other areas of school life have beenappreciated by generations ofFosterians, and we wish him a happy and satisfyingretirement I should like to thank, once again, the stage staff, the performers andeveryone else who contributed towards making Mr. McKay's last Commoners'Concert such a successful one.VISITS AND EXPEDITIONSWINTER SPORTSJONATHAN FIELDThis year's winter sports party went for a week to Andalo, a ski resort in theItalian Dolomites.At 7.30 one damp miserable March morning we left Gatwick for sunnierclimes, rising up above the clouds and out across the English Channel. At teno'clock we were back on the depressing Gatwick tarmac. Apparently the pilot'souter windscreen ( ofthree) had cracked, and so we had been forced to retum. Thewindscreen having been changed, we eventually took off once more. Much ofthetrip was above cloud, but there was a break in it over the Swiss Alps. It was thefirst time I had ever flown, and I found the flight an extraordinary experi~nce,looking down out of a small circular window at an apparently unreal world ofsnow-capped mountains partially covered in forest.Venice was sunny and warm. We had to wait for at least an hour while thebus driver 'bolted' his lunch, but finally we set off on a fairly luxurious coachthrough the Italian countryside. Initially I was not impressed. Everywhereseemed to be so brown and lifeless; instead ofthe green fields ofEngland one sawvast flat areas of dead-looking vines. Our surroundings became rather moreinteresting as we approached mountainous regions, and finally we reachedAndalo, where, in contrast to the earlier scenery, the snow covered mountainsbristling with pines were magnificent.Our hotel was a good deal better than I had expected, and food was prettygood. But an exploration ofthe town revealed to us that by far the most luxurious,and also the most expensive, was the German hotel, with bear skins hanging onthe wall.Although some had been skiing before, for many of us it was the first time.The first day we did not go up the mountain; while those with previous experiencetook a re-familiarisation course on the nursery slope( where incidentally a certainmember of staff split his brand-new ski-trousers). Mr. House attempted toimpress upon us novices the fundamentals of turning and stopping - not toosuccessfully in all cases.The following day we were transported by bucket lift part way up themountain, where it was appreciably colder. Later in the week we were to go to thevery top of the mountain by a series ofchair lifts and drag lifts. It was remarkablywarm, being completely exposed to the rays of the mountain sun. We even sawJ ~ someone sunbathing. Nevertheless the snow was absolutely solid - it was rathermore like ice. This made skiing difficult, as in order to turn one has to dig the skisinto snow.The mornings we had free to ourselves, but the afternoons were taken up byskiing lessons with friendly Italian ski-instructors who amused us with theirpidgin-English.Skiing was a fantastic sensation, although it took the novices two or threedays before they were completely in control, and even then one or two hadn'tquite mastered it. One particular idiot who Mr. House swears he would nevertake again, mowed down eleven Italians in the first three days, notching the' kills'on his boots like a Battle of Britain fighter pilot.This same imbecile wanted a piece of Italian mountain yew (reputedly thebest in the world) to make a longbow. Having located a suitable tree, a litre ofwine secured the loan of an axe from a local woodman. Half an hour later he wasseen travelling down the chair lift with a piece of wood about three inches acrossand over six feet long. The lunatic even succeeded in taking this lump of treethrough customs and onto the aircraft, despite Mr. Shapland's protestations, butto his utter dismay, flying home our would-be Robin Hood discovered his treewas not yew at all, but larch. The pilot wouldn't let him open the window to throwit out, so it had to come the rest of the way home. .Towards the end of the week the snow began to melt We were right at theend ofthe season, and when we left we realised that the bestofthe skiing was over.The return journey was rather an anti-climax, and passed without event.We had a fantastic week, and much of the credit must go to Mr. House andMr. Shapland, who were always in good spirits. For me personally it was by farthe most exciting and exhilarating holiday I have ever had, and I would certainlyrecommend it to anyone.JONATHAN MOYLETO FINLAND AND BACKA Journey of some 3,000 miles made by James Roberts and StephenWheatleyThe only certain prediction you can make at the beginning of a day's hitchhikingis that you just do not know where you will be the following evening. Whenwe stepped on to French soil on a sultry August MQnday evening we had littleprospect of getting anywhere at all by nightfall.To cut a long story short, a little after midnight we were preparing to beddown in a flat in Brussels. having just had a whistle-stop tour of the city in a smallwhile Toyota. A good deal ofthe next day was spent looking round the sights, butwe managed to reach Antwerp by the evening.By the Friday we were in Amsterdam, where we spent most ofour time in theRijksmuseum. The following afternoon we were in Lubeck, having crossed WestGermany. After we had explored the ancient Hanseatic port we took a bus out tothe frontier with East Germany. The next morning we spent some time exploringthe immediate vicinity of the fence, until an alsatian began to protest at ourinquisitiveness. We narrowly missed a patrol as we moved away.3233