I speak limited french at the moment, and that's possibly one of the biggest over-statements you'll hear all day. My decision to drop french for german is one that haunts me every day! Funnily, at the time of making the decision, someone, probably my mum, said to me, "you never know, you might be playing rugby in france one day..." Eerily prophetic. But i'm relying on some understanding flatmates and the rumours about 'picking it up'. We'll see.
But why on earth move to France? Well, I always knew I was taking a gap year and I knew i wanted to play rugby. Options considered were South Africa and, well, that's really it. Then someone mentioned France to me. I was initially wary of the idea, given my limited knowledge of French rugby and my lack of linguistic ability. But I did some investigating despite the doubts I heard about the idea from various quarters, most closer than you might imagine. I then enlisted the help of a very fat french A Level taking friend (Fino Hood) who managed to translate my rugby CV. We then found email addresses for about 6 or 7 clubs in France then just sent it off. I was asking for a one year contract.
Toulouse said, "ehh, you don't come to us, we'll find you". Fair enough. European champions don't need arrogant little scots asking to come and play for them! Perpignan said yes, why not come to our trial in April. Well, to be quite honest, I had not expected this at all. We made plans to go but that bloody volcano Eyjafjallajokull (A Level Geography right there) got in the way of our numerous travel plans.
Then! In the post came some forms about a 'journee de detection' at Racing Metro 92. This was great news. I'll write a whole other post about the trial I think. Then me and Dad went out to Perpignan after re-arranging a visit. I made my call and here we are. 36 days till gay Paris.
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