Today started badly and ended with me in fine form. I had only gone 5 minutes of my 10 minute walk to the station when I realised I hadn’t packed a top for training. So I headed home, got one, realised I was now too late to go in for my 8.30am phonetics class so lay in my bed for an hour before heading in for 10.
My RER B took an age to get into the Latin Quarter so I was late for my class, for the first time. However, the prof finally lost his patience later in the class at those who consistently come in late, apparently after some clipers had complained to him (I have my suspicions who, and I'm leaning towards South America). He pointed out the contract we signed saying we would come on time...etc etc I fell asleep.
So I went on to my geography lecture, which was excellent once again, and heartening how much I understood.
By the time I arrived at the training ground the mercury was really rising. I put my ankle socks on, boots on, removed all but the most necessary items of clothing (you’d be surprised) and went out to train. We were supposed to have weights, but the pros were in the gym and I for one was not going to ask them to move so we went out and trained. It was excellent. Given the espoirs (u23s - who our training schedule is geared around) had played a huge game in Sunday, the load was light: 10 a side variations on hawick ball sort of thing with a rugby ball, American football and so on. Then the forwards hit the gym and the backs did a handling session.
I found myself realising that this was exactly what I had imagined before I arrived in France. We did a huge Auckland Grid with the sun on the back of our necks, throwing huge passes ‘cos, quite frankly, we could with the ball being so dry. This is the environment to improve handling! It was really pleasant to be out there, and the training paddock hasn’t always been the place I have wanted to be, so I appreciated today. The coaching was incisive and the standard of others players impressive too. I was understandably motivated and this continued into the weights, for which I am reaping the benefits.
After an ice bath, absolutely necessary for me to get through the week in one piece, I chatted to my pal the scrum-half who has recently played for the u23s. He’s been offered a one year contract with the centre de formation proper, which is unsurprising yet good news for him. He made the point that the initiative falls on the player to go in and ask for a contract and the club may agree, they may not, but they won’t always come to you. Strange country.
Even the small chinese girl at the bus stop who told me her instrument case contained a saxophone and not a trumpet was not enough to dent my mood. Neither was the young mother across the street who stopped pushing her little girl’s tricycle to turn around, shout at someone up the road and give them a hefty one-fingered salute, before continuing her early evening stroll. Next week’s lecture is “The Paris Suburbs: Are they Ghettos?” to which I scoffed and said mine certainly wasn’t, though this woman made me think again, and then realise that she is not the typical genteel Antony resident.
Tomorrow we are training at the Croix de Berny in the south of Paris and not up at Colombes which is excellent news for me, saving the usual trek. Should be a long day though as I have kicking at 3, speed at 4 and rugby at 7.30. Hopefully I can get home before the rugby for some food and relaxation. But now I’m off to cook the chicken that I gleefully bought the other day. Our supermarket doesn’t often sell chicken breasts and I was becoming as bored as a mad cow of chewy, BSE ridden French steaks.
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