Fireball

It was waiting to happen. The end of season party was great. Earlier in the afternoon the boys set the silliness level by using an industrial bladder of ketchup as a pinata.

Now it was dark, the homemade brazier - welded together lift and groomer parts - was lit and had already had an old snowboard and boots offered to the flames. Fireworks were on the go and the boys were larking around jumping over them. The games came to an abrupt end when one of the lads jumped on a firework, sending it shooting amongst the onlookers and some of it into the house. No major injuries or fires - we were lucky.

The luck was destined to run out when some of the maintenance crew found the hidden petrol and started lighting petrol-soaked toilet rolls to kick around the garden. At this point we left in the interest of self-preservation.

Sometime after that it seems someone knocked/kicked/threw (who knows) the remaining petrol over someone standing by the still-burning brazier. He's lucky to be alive. He's lucky it never got to his face and he 'only' has second degree burns to his right hand, arm and leg to show for it.
I guess that if enough alcohol can lead you to believe you can safely drive a vehicle at 100km an hour even though you're seeing double and can barely walk straight, it could also fool you into thinking you're immune to the lethal combination of petrol and fire. Really though? How stupid can you get?!

Final curtain (again)

A third ski season at Mt Ruapehu has come to an end. It feels sadder than the previous two. I've put heart and soul into this job and made huge progresses for the department. I've been part of a brilliant team, including the most trusting and supportive manager I've ever had and it'll be hard to say goodbye. I'm not going anywhere for once - I move to a different role in HR next week. Maybe that's why this year feels harder. As the place empties out and friends scatter across the world again, I'm reminded that it's definitely easier to leave than to be left.