Jet-Setting, Sleeping, and Freezing Pitches - in that order.

I returned to the flat last night to find it in a bit of a state. It is incredibly heartening to see that living standards do not go up when I’m not here, as I (and close relatives) thought they might have.

After a flight shared with that sort of middle aged Caucasian male who reads “New African Woman – Lifestyle Magazine”, it was well and truly time for bed. It was up at 6.30 though for a trip to Dijon. The thought of a second match inside three days was hard to take, and on Saturday night I thought to myself that this would be one of those occasions when my ‘professionalism’ would be put to the test. I find the sort of people who go on about living a professional lifestyle, being professional etc. very tiresome. But they would look at how I responded to such a situation and then gauge how professional I am. I would do this a little myself. I could either put my mental and physical tiredness to the back of my mind, focus on my team-mates, the job in hand and the need to win or I could indulge my feelings of soreness, relax safe in the knowledge that it was an easy game, I could easily cruise through relying on those around me to do enough and we could go home happy. It was not immediately obvious which route I was going down.

In the end, it didn’t matter a jot. We didn’t play a single minute of rugby today let alone get changed. Instead we arrived at the ground (after our standard lavish lunch, this time complete with Dijon mustard) and got told that the referee was deciding whether the match should go ahead. In fact, he was sticking his car key into the ground and deciding that no rugby could be played on this pitch. It was a horrible limbo period as we waited; I was trying to ensure I didn’t let myself desire any particular outcome, match or no match. But eventually we got back on the bus and drove the 4 hours back to Paris.

It’s been an odd day solely spent exploring France’s pot-hole-free motorway system. I’m sure the views were lovely but I had my eyes firmly shut for the majority of those 8 hours, and I feel much the better for it. My mornings are once again free this week but my inevitable boredom should be delayed by having to ‘run some errands’ in Paris...and Partridge series 2.