Tom becomes a teen in Sestriere. Lewis the involuntary saviour on the mountain, and Hassan does a ‘bloke look.’

It’s been a packed and eventful couple of days in sunny Sestriere. So much so that I didn’t have time for an update yesterday, so this could be long one. Hold tight - I’ll aim to keep it brief, but if you’ve read any of my previous ramblings you’ll probably realise that brevity is not one of the attributes of my writing. See, I’m away again, like Ronnie Corbett in his chair, sadly without the wit. And again! Get on with it!

Shoulders Droop as Tom Turns Teen

On Monday we celebrated Tom’s 13th birthday and observed the transformation of the once bubbly, bicycling, bouncy haired boy into a slope-shouldered, grouchy teen. Of course we didn’t, although Tom did report feeling a little bit more weight in the shoulders and a strange, stroppy sensation. Tom’s birthday started at 0645 with a frankly criminal rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ on Mr Duff’s Peppa Pig harmonica (don’t ask). He celebrated his special day by moving up a group and is now one of our top skiers - well done, Tom!

At dinner, we all (including the other school in the hotel) sang a proper happy birthday and presented Tom with a cake, candle and card, signed by everyone. Happy Birthday, Tom!

Lewis takes one for the team - well, Jamie.

Now, this is a story involving a skiing injury, but I have been asked by the patient to share his story about the tangling and disentangling of limbs on the mountain. From what I can gather from Jamie it went something like this: he was going fast, way too fast, and doom opened its dark doors, until he saw the saviour, the shining light of salvation, in the form of Lewis. Now Lewis is a lovely, generous guy, but given the opportunity, I’m guessing he would have side-stepped the hurtling rugby playing death hugger zeroing in on him. He didn’t. Have the opportunity. So, a little like the two-become-one moment between Mr Duff and Mr Jones earlier in the week, there was collision of bodies, skis, poles, helmets - you name it, it collided. But this was a far more violent coming together than the graceful Duff & Jones meeting. After, the dust (well, snow really) settled, help arrived to disentangle the limbs, after first establishing which leg or arm belonged to which body.

It was at this point that Jamie realised something wasn’t right with his left leg, which had positioned itself in a rather strange position. This caused a few expletives, polite ones of course. So, poor Jamie was skied off the mountain by the rescue team. He was wrapped up so tightly, he said he felt “like the inside of a sausage roll.” This is the mark of the man. Despite being in pain and now in a leg brace, after receiving very prompt medical attention at the local hospital, he was still cracking jokes. So much so that we will be publishing a daily joke from Jamie. Here’s the first one: What do you call a dog doing ski jumps? …..

Eddie the Beagle! Groan. If you think that’s bad, wait for tomorrow.

The final instalment of this story goes to Jamie’s roommates: Joe, Charlie, Hassan, Raymond and Tom. These boys made sure Jamie was able to have a wash and get comfortable, including putting his socks on for him, helping him back into his leg brace and pretty much attending to his every need. Thanks boys, you really are true friends and we’re very proud of you!

We wish Jamie a very speedy recovery and thank you for being such an excellent role model for our younger students.

Hassan Proves that Men Really are Rubbish at Looking for Stuff.

Whenever I can’t find anything at home, Mrs Duff (she who must be obeyed) always gives me the side-eye before asking if I’ve looked properly and not done a ‘bloke look.’ Of course, I always protest that I have thoroughly searched all possible locations, which usually, actually always, isn’t strictly true. And invariably I am rumbled when she goes straight to a drawer, moves something and then hands me whatever I’m looking for. Now, this is always a little embarrassing but at least it doesn’t involve turning the place upside down, or removing seats from a coach late at night, with the two wonderfully helpful drivers on their hands and knees searching every crevice for a lost air pod, does it Hassan?

So where was this pesky air pod that Hassan claimed had dropped on the floor when he fell asleep and dislodged it when leaning against the window? Come on Hassan, where did the sound come from when you played a track on your phone? Yes, that’s right, it was nestled in your hoodie all the time, wasn’t it?

Thankfully, we all had a good laugh, including the drivers who immediately set to work putting the coach back together. So, the next time Hassan says he’s lost something, it might be an idea to get him to frisk himself before tearing out any furniture.

There’s so much more to report, such as Harvana gets major air, Kayla channels Chumbawumba, Seamus is my wingman; the return of Leo; heartbreak on the hill, and the quiz concludes with some Oscar winning performances… not!

Bye for now.

Mr Duff

Newsflash: Teenagers can get up early! Ridgewood’s own Check-a-Trade man comes to the rescue. Mr Jones traumatised by The Clash. Two become one on the slopes, and why skii forwards, when you can go backwards just as easily? Sestriere launches new support, counselling, anything you want facility, but time is limited because Miss Bastock goes home on Friday.

Something strange happened on Sunday morning, and I mean morning. We’re talking before the crowing of even the most earliest of rising cockerels. Let’s just say that after a 26-hour journey, a frantic fitting of ski equipment, a three course dinner, and the sorting of rooms, it’s fair to say that we were a little bit sceptical about everyone being ready for breakfast at 0715 and then out for 0800. How wrong we were! It turns out that the children did not need the 6.45 knock on the door. In fact, some of them tried to catch some snoozing teachers out by giving their teachers’ doors a good rat-a-tat-tat. But we were all up and ready, honestly! So, a great start to the first day proper, for nearly everyone (see below). To top things off our Year 11- nothing-is-beyond-me Raymond completed a successful repair job on the toilet handle in their bathroom, which seemed to have been the victim of some vigorous flushing. Enough said, but well done, Raymond!

It’s now time to take a moment to think about poor Mr Jones and his stuttering, startling awakening(s). Let me explain. Ridgewood’s very own Action Man (well, that’s what he looked like in his brand new all-in-one ski suit, or maybe more Little Big Man - google it, it was a real 70s action figure. I know, I had one.) has been subjected… Wait, I’ve got carried away with an overlong parenthesis. Let’s start again. Poor Mr Jones has drawn the rooming short straw: he’s with me! Now, as Mrs Duff will happily, actually more angrily, tell you I am not someone who springs out of bed at the first alarm. No, I need coaxing, cajoling and finally cursing before there is any significant movement from the pit. I think it all started when my mum used to try to get me out of bed when I was a troublesome teen. I have a short first name, but boy could she elongate those vowels: “Iain.” 5 minutes later, “Iai:::n.” Repeat for 30 minutes to, “Iai::::::::::::::n!” So my mother alarm clock replacement has got to have some bite, and what better than the opening bars and lyrics to ‘London’s Calling’ by The Clash. When, after about the eighth round of “duh, duh, duh, London’s Calling…” I prised open my bleary eyes, I saw a somewhat stunned looking Mr Jones who’s morning greeting was, “Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the lyrics to ‘London’s Calling” permanently pierced into my brain. Poor Mr Jones. Now, how can I ramp this up? Suggestions please.

Enough of me and Mr Jones for the moment. More a bit later - he’s had quite a day.

A new one-stop-shop catering for all your creature comfort needs landed in Sestriere today in the form of our beloved Miss Bastock. By her own admission, Miss B is not one for the slippery slopes, but give her a corner and some students in need of a bit of support and encouragement and she’s in her element. But this is a very exclusive service and open only to Ridgewood students and staff - yes, sometimes we need a bit of that Bastock magic, too. So rest assured, when the skiing gets a bit tough, or we’re just a bit out of sorts, Miss Bastock is there with her soothing words of sense.

Ready for a bit more about Mr Jones’s day? I’ll try and make it brief. And I’m sort of thinking Brief Encounter. Picture the scene: Mr Duff, the ageing, somewhat portly English teacher was smugly making his way up the slopes. I say smugly, but actually it was more relief that I’d remembered the basics in skiing, like stopping and turning. Anyway, what does he see but his room mate, the novice skier Mr Jones sliding out of control on the nursery, that’s NURSERY, slope. Now it’s not very often an English teacher gets the opportunity to lord it a bit over a PE teacher in the sporting world., but that’s not what happened. Actually, what transpired was a beautiful, brief moment of comradeship as Mr Duff caught the panicky PE man in his arms. However, a little later, Mr Duff lamented the missed lording opportunity when, you just knew it, didn’t you, Mr Jones mastered the art of turning, skilfully slaloming around some poles. PE teachers - they’re so annoyingly good at new sports, very quickly: grrrr!

In other news, Mayson in Year 10 has found this skiing lark is all a bit last year, so he’s decided backwards is the new forwards. What twist will this innovator of ancient sports add tomorrow?

That’s all for now. We’ve had a great first day, rounded off with bowling and other games. It’s time to turn in so we can do it all again tomorrow.

Bye for now.

Mr Duff

Greetings from somewhere in sunny - no it really is - France.

Well, we’ve had a great start to our Italian adventure, with only a couple of minor hiccups so far. Where has Charlie’s slider slid to on the coach? It’s ok, he’s got it. And which Year 11 boy is gassing the back row? Again, it’s ok: we are seasoned travellers with teenagers and are armed and ready with the Spring Awakening Febreze.

Right, the black bag: whose is it? So, we are trundling happily towards the ferry when an orange, very, very orange hi-viz cladded official thinks, “They look a bit cheery for midnight in dreary Dover.” Out comes the wand of woe to wave us into the customs shed for a random bag check. Three bags are taken from the hold and held up so the owners can accompany them through the security check. Who knew bags needed chaperones? Anyway, one poor black bag is held up but no-one claims it. The poor thing feels abandoned. You can hear its zip handles sniffling, but still no-one will acknowledge ownership of this poor, stretched-to-its limits quivering piece of canvas. But all is not lost. Because we have a new superhero on board: Mr Jones. Or as he is better known, Captain Carousel: no bag left behind, ever! With the should-be-sainted superhero by its side, the blag back sailed through the x-ray machine, before snuggling back into the hold. I did say I was delirious, didn’t I?

Released from the security shed, we sped towards the ferry, only to see its rear end (the stern, I think) edging away from the dock. At that point, I had a few ideas about what I’d like to do with that man and his wand. Still, every cloud and all that… As our coach swung away from the dock to park up, a heavenly sight emerged from the darkness, well heavenly at 1215 when you’ve just missed the ferry: Burger King!

So, full up and raring to go, we boarded the 0220 ferry for an uneventful crossing, other than for our wonderful students being complimented for their excellent behaviour by a secondary school teacher from Burnley - she was so impressed!On that very high note, I’ll leave it there. All is calm and we’re making good progress through the beautiful French landscape.

Bye for now.

Mr Duff

Testing, testing… I’m writing about the blog we will be writing, not describing how I think the next week is going to be!

Welcome to the Ridgewood 2025 Ski Blog. Unlike other social media platforms, this is where you will get a more developed, detailed account of some of the most memorable moments of our week on the slopes of northern Italy. Here, you can read about the highs, lows, extreme lows and downright embarrassing incidents, which really should be left in Italy. But as we are a sharing, caring school, we think it’s only fair that you get a ‘warts and all’ account of our experiences.

Thinking about that has made me reminisce to 2023 and our week of skiing in Davos, Switzerland, and some of the memories we shared then. This should give you an idea of what to expect from this blog:

• Mrs Jones frankly fantastical floundering on the icy car park in an attempt to save her ASDA bag for life, and I mean life, full of medication and remedies.

• Mr Duff’s catastrophic descent of the nursery slope, involving the collateral damage of two women being taken out and clattered into the protective tunnel over the travelator.

• Miss Halford prodding (quite violently, actually) Mr Duff with her ski poles to inject some life into the aged English teacher who had face planted the snow for the twentieth time that day.

That’s all for now. I need to go and finish packing!

Mr Duff