St Moritz
As they used to say in Flatbush, I shoulda stood in bed. So, leaving the pretty village of Gstaad on a sunny Tuesday morning, I set out for St Moritz to attend the Annual General Meeting of Pugs club and to participate in the first Pugs uphill ski race on the new course laid out by our president, Professor William H. Gimlet.
As the prof. has learnt to ski only recently — ironically, there are no skiing lessons provided by British institutions for the criminally insane — I should perhaps have foreseen, in the words of Irving Berlin, ‘trouble ahead’, but I didn’t. I woke up with a fever and rang St Moritz. Brain damage has been known to rob people of their sense of humour, and Gimlet was no exception. ‘Do you believe in clubs for small children?’ he rasped over the telephone.
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