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 We absolutely must get to radio control in HQ by 7 am local time, every morning. My roommate Peter and I take turns as to who will have the first shower – he who goes first gets a blast of really cold water, but by the time the shower is over the water is warm.
It was my turn to go first this morning, so I am wide awake, no need for coffee after the shower, just ready to roll.
Had a walk around to a peg where a fish was caught. As non angler I was struck by the attention paid to the welfare of the fish, and quite impressed actually. These guys really care about the fish and there is much admire about their painstaking care and professionalism
Each fish gets a kiss before being sent on its way, as can be seen in my accompanying photo! True love indeed!
The action has tended to ebb and flow through the day with periods of relative quiet interspersed with bursts of fish being caught all over the lake. The incomparable Peter Hands keeps the radio traffic under control and vital information flowing, while entertaining hard working Marshalls. His razor sharp wit and quick ripostes are a invigorating thread running through proceedings. But Karma is real!
On Friday Peter and I were asked to collect two young ladies who had previously worked with Ross and Marianne. I was asked to go along because I know one of the ladies, Astride, and she would recognise me. We had 60 mile round trip to the train station in Nancy so it was a significant journey and we got back to the lake at around 1 am.
After we removed the girls’ luggage from the boot of Peter’s station wagon I started to close the boot, but Peter was standing under it and took the edge across the bridge of his nose! Ouch! An early test of friendship, one I would not have contemplated, but Peter was very gracious and accepted that I was simply trying to eliminate him as a potential suitor to the girls. After applying three field sutures to his face in poor light at 1:10 am, we shared our stash of drinks with the girls who were grateful for the hospitality and welcome we provided.
Peter has been very gracious about my inept stroke which disfigured him, and like a true English gentleman has behaved with style and reserved panache – until now.
Fast forward to today. Just had a black coffee delivered to my desk while Peter was talking to his daughter via Skype. As he swivelled the laptop to allow me to say hello, his power cord tipped the scalding hot coffee straight into my lap!
Enough said! Never in the history of civilised personal hygiene have cold showers meant so much to one man and his dog! Peter and I are still best friends, but better yet we are even!
I had the pleasure to accompany a very senior tournament administrator whose first language is French on a visit to the local town Metz. The purpose of the trip was to sort out some essential logistical details
Of course, if it one thing the French do better than wines, cheese and hosting international events, (excluding invasions) it is a national strike. There was a national strike on today and most cities and towns were host to a variety of marches, rallies and protests. (Something to do with raising the retirement age from 40 to 42?) It was into this maelstrom of energetic protest and defiant strike action that our intrepid and determined leader plunged on foot, head down and determined to complete the business of the tournament. Striking Frenchmen and women are nothing if not determined, and fearless leader resolutely refused to take any position on the political issue of the day, stoutly deflecting any and all entreaties to join in the fun with a firm “Je ne parle pas français”, in the most delightful Parisian accent! It was hilarious. Needless to say very little business was done!
William Bramble
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