In 1983, my mate Richard and I had a plan. We were going to Canada. We would ski in the daytime, wash dishes in the evening, hone our technique until we were the best skiers on Whistler, then on to Europe to be ski instructors at a Swiss finishing school, maybe marry into a small European principality or something. Or not. We really just wanted to get out into the world and see what happened.
Before long it was all arranged, off at the end of the year. Then about two months before we’re supposed to be leaving I’m chatting at drinks and I get a job offer. DB is being turned upside down by Brierley and it’s offering exciting opportunities for an ambitious young graduate such as myself.
That's all it took. Richard was as unimpressed as any reasonable person has a right to be, and I am lucky to be able to call him a friend forty years later.
