The Holiday Part II

What I've always found fascinating about self catering holidays is the self catering.

But of course to do this means a trip to the hyper market or travelling with a car load of food. As we did not voyage packed with vittels, Monday has meant a trip to the Super U. Super it was was and U it was cold.

I can't argue with that really but I thought I'd gone into the tundra. When you end up doing the shopping in gloves you know that they take their food conservation seriously.

It fair knocked me out. I had to retire for a siesta while the children watched Harry Potter part 3. Something to do with the prisoner of Azerbaijan.

The eldest let slip that she found Harry Potter quite attractive. Might have something to do with the fact that he is the hero and solves problems. Guess I know what type of bloke she'll be bringing home in the future.

Man of action. That should really help send me into decrepitude. But I think I can do that very well myself.

The moustache project doesn't seem to be progressing apace.

But this is not something you can really do anything about. I looked at the table for the football team and from what I can gather the team is in the relegation zone, not on the fringes of it but actually in the zone with three games to go.

I sincerely hope the star players will be available for the crunch three matches otherwise it is division 3 next season and that would be a real drag. Might win some games.

The Holiday

To the Loire. What kind of glory lies there? Wine country so you can't go wrong. Well I probably can. I am being encouraged by my family to grow a moustache.

I find this very odd behaviour because there is nothing in my approach that screams moustache.

But I am going along with the binge because it would be churlish not to. Sadly I am not the kind of man that can grow a moustache. I am not hirsute.

Great shame.

I've taken solace in an annual pass for Fontevraud abbey. It cost 25 euros and is only 1 euro more expensive than getting in with the entire crowd. This is bargain country for at Fontevraud rest great kings and queens of France and England.

I first visited Fontevraud more than 20 years ago when I was in another (moustacheless) incarnation. And then they were at the start of their great renovation project.

Needless to say that over two decades they've restored a large part of the ruins and now they even have a couple of cafes. Great history and coffee.

The thing is that we only get down to the Loire once a year but if we visit Fontevraud twice during the visit we'd be quids in.

There are chateaux galore to visit. Not quite sure what kind of state I'm going to be in.

The trip was preceded by a football match with the team. We are in a relegation dogfight. And though we won, the teams in front of us won so we're not really that much better off though a lot better off than we would be had we lost.

I must console myself with that. The next three matches will make or break the season.

UEFA Champions league? Well that's straightforward. English Premier League....Manchester United are five points clear. Veterans B division. It's squeaky bum time to cite a footballing knight.

Hackery

A kindly couple of souls contacted me today to tell me that it seemed my email account had been hijacked. They'd received some messages about viagra supplies from Canada.

I tried to take action but failed. Rather apt really. I waited and hoped it wouldn't happen again.

And it hasn't happened again since this morning. Better check my entire online data facilties.

Currently just waiting for the results of the African Footballer of the Year as decided by continental coaches. The ceremony is taking place in Accra and André Ayew, Yaya Touré and Seydou Keita are up for the award.

It seems a long way to go for Touré who's Manchester City side are in action in a few days but these are young fit men. They probably don't fly economy and are more thank likley to have a couple of private jets around.

Travel by air has been banned by the bosses at the radio station. They want their charges to take any other means as the airlines haven't passed Euro safety standards.

As I'm not the happiest of flyers, this is fine by me.

But I've just tried to print something at work and the printers don't seem to be functioning.

Maybe they should go through some Euro checks.

The Silence

Thought I'd better resuscitate the blog just as I approach a period of not travelling between Paris and London. Must be something to do with the time of year. Lots of the newspapers are doing their Year's Best Books/Albums/Concerts.

The brand that is Me is nowhere near performing that kind of thing. I am though interested in how the eurozone is melting down. What will having less money mean. Will we be unable to put food on the table. Will we all become feral as we scrap for the titbits of the rich?

No idea. I guess I will just have to continue doing all the usual things until it is all over.

Under these circumstances going to church made an awful lot of sense. Great hymns, crazy smells and utterly rational since no one here on earth seems to have a clue.

The Quiz

I've been bemused by the Patrice Evra v Luis Suarez race hate allegations. According to Evra, Suarez directed racist obscenities at him during the Liverpool v Manchester United crunch last Saturday afternoon. Suarez, who's from Uruguay, has been denying it left right and Facebook that he did no such thing. He loves everyone, he says.

One thing is for sure Suarez would not be met by enthusiastic hordes were he to travel to Ghana. His handball on the line prevented them from scoring a goal in the dying seconds of the world cup quarter final. Asamoah Gyan, then missed the subsequent penalty and Uruguay ultimately won the penalty shoot out.

That's just the background. It suggests he is up for gamesmanship. But that does not necessarily lead to racist abuse.

But why not. If you're capable of sticking your hand up and stopping a goal - terribly bad form - what's to say that you can't string a few words together? Or as Evra suggest, the same slur 10 times.

But maybe Evra didn't hear right. Maybe Suarez uttered no such obscenities.

Evra is no goodies two shoes. He was part of the maniacal French team that entered a reality fug at the last world cup in South Africa. All had something to do with the coach Raymond Domenech, the striker Nicolas Anelka and a subsequent boycott of a training session. Classy.

Is my point that footballers are strange beasts. Yes they are. Rich, pampered and very skilful too.

Readers of the blog will know that I shuffle around a field of a Saturday morning. In the seven or eight years that I've been doing that, I've never been racially abused.

I have never racially abused anyone either. I would have to learn a whole welter of vocabulary that is not in my usual realm and I would have to learn it from people who themselves know how to be abusing towards North Africans and presumably the white French with whom I play.

It sounds like a lot of effort. But maybe Suarez has the kind of infrastructure that allows him access to racist obscenities.

But I do know one thing. If Evra has made it all up, he'll have a lot of black people calling him names too.

The Law

There used to be an advert on TV about how a dog wasn't just for Christmas, it was for life. I really should try and apply the same discipline to this blog.

Neglect. Pure and simple. It's just not right. And there is so much to write about.

The football for starters. New season is up and running and two games in have brought a win and a draw. I've scored two goals (in the match we lost) and am now injured (the match we won).

As I cajoled my strained right thigh muscle towards the railway station on Saturday, I thought just how painful would this be if we had lost. I was pained the week before when we lost and I am in pain when we win. So the leitmotif?

Football is pain. Tennis doesn't seem to be produce so much agony. Perhaps just the angst of learning so many new things. But that's no bad thing.

I ought to try and get a bit more with it.

Ace journalist and writer Jonathan Wilson was in Paris last week for the France v Bosnia match. I took advantage of his presence to do an interview with him for the radio station and go out for lunch.

By the time I emailed him to alert him to the interview, he replied he'd already had the link up on his Twitter page.

I plan to take six months off travelling between Paris and London.

Forget football and tennis, I need to to embrace digitalia.

New Season

This could be construed as having something to do with the fashion shows. But the truth is sporting. Football sporting. Or rather my pallid attempt to be on a football field and playing something like the rudiments of the game.

It was a friendly against the team that won the division last season. They have been promoted and quite frankly I'm glad to see the back of them.

They were just too good. I hope they prosper in the first division.

For my pains I got a bruised cheekbone and somehow a bruised bicep. It was all so frightening when compared to the tennisfest I've been having of late.

Clearly I will have to toughen up if I am to survive the midfield engine room.

The good thing is there won't be as many teams as fast and furious as Saturday's opponents.