This all started, as most good things do, in the pub. On the 21st October 2006 to be precise. On my way to the bar I bumped into a chap wearing a ski jacket with “British Team” emblazed on it. Not that unusual at the ski show, however this bloke was so pissed he was crashing into everyone and everything on the way back from the bog. I was also fairly leathered and being sociable, I asked what skiing discipline he did. “Speed Skiing” he said. At this point I thought he would be better qualified for the British rudeness team (an interesting concept, but you know they’d always lose to the French at the World Championships) because he wasn’t even looking at me when he answered, he was staring back towards the bar at his pint. Expecting him to head back to his pint which was obviously the centre of his attention at this point, I started to walk away. “Do you ski?” he said.
Now I was confused. This guy can’t even be bothered to look me in the face when he’s talking to me, but he wants to keep up a conversation he’s not even apparently interested in. Perhaps he’s a Guiness fan and has a couple of minutes to kill before it’s settled? I was intrigued by Speed Skiing, so I thought I’d ignore his rudeness and get him to look at me by subtly sliding sideways into his field of vision. Perhaps he’s just really shy I thought.
It was at this point I introduced myself and held out my hand for a good firm “we’re both men here, there’s no need to be rude / shy” kind of shake. “Kev” he said. And left me hanging. And hanging. And people round us started to notice that there I was with my hand obviously pointed at his groin, while he just looked blankly at me. I eventually withdrew, and made a mental note never to make the same mistake in a gay bar.
At was at this point he rummaged round in his pocket and pulled out a card. It is to this day still the coolest business card I have ever seen, and at that point it all made sense. It read “Kev Alderton, Blind Speed Skier”. “F*ck me” I said “Your golden retriever must have balls the size of watermelons”.
Kev and I grabbed a pint and had a chat about skiing, ambition, world records and chalet girls. To break more than 100mph on skis, he has a mate (Norman Clark) on a radio link who directs him down the speed slope, which helps make up for the fact he has just 4% vision. He lost his sight in 1998 after being attacked by a gang in Islington. I won’t go into the details but you can read more about it here. His story is remarkable, well worth reading and inspired me to give it a crack myself.
