Thursday, 18 September 2008

The Quest

After my horrendous exhibitions in the two journalist tennis tournaments I've decided - and I mean really decided - to take matters in hand.

I will join a club. I've spent a good part of the day trawling through the internet in search of a tennis club. The Fédération Française de Tennis claims that tennis is a sport réservé à tous. Right.

Try looking for a club to join.

I have furrowed my brows and I eventually said to the missus tonight that things must be going well if this is the extent of the stress in my life.

You're havin' it too easy boy. But as a diplomat once told me: enjoy the fallow periods when they come because when it's on, it can be on for a long time. Was it really me working those 18-19 hour days in Beijing?

Well, yes it was.

Me and the lady went off for lunch this afternoon at a local Corsican bistrot. Was recommended by neighbours on the 4th floor. And rather than going to our usual haunt of Le Petit Chateau D'Eau we tried Le Balbuzard. And though the leaks in vinaigrette were a bit watery, the rest of it was wholly nourishing and for 11 euros per head and a lavish 6€ for the wine. Well weren't we happy.

The idea afterwards was to go to the Orangerie to look at the pretty pictures. But there was an exhibition of Richard Avedon at the Jeu de Paume so we walked round that instead.

Martina Navratilova was there too. Clearly she knew we were going to be there.

Avedon extravaganza wasn't at all bad. More comprehensible than the stuff at the Pompidou. At least it was human. All about faces and people.

What I liked especially was walking out into the Tuileries on a bright sunny autumn afternoon and seeing loads of people out doing the same thing. Existing. Enthusing. I particularly liked the Tuileries security corps who go round on bicycles telling people they're not allowed to cycle.

I never thought of that one.

What I did think of when I got back from yoga though was a relationship breaking down and there being no contest over who would have the children.

However the strife would be over the wine cellar. A bitter battle over bottles. I said I felt a short story coming on. The missus said each case could be a vignette and then it could end with champagne with the new partner.

We like the concept.

It sounds more plausible than people on bikes telling people on bikes that they shouldn't be on bikes.