Making an Assault Shield for Airsoft

Most weekends will see me umbilically attached to my Kindle, sat in various spots for comfy reading. If it's not too hot I'll sit outside on sun lounger; if the sun is that bit too much, I'll head inside and take up residence on the sofa. After a week at work, I love nothing better than total relaxation with a good book.

Of course, this not good for waistlines or thighs but I'm in a low-energy phase at the moment and don't give a toss.

However, this last weekend was very different from usual. I spent Saturday purchasing materials to make an assault shield at Castorama, not for me I hasten to add (if you hadn't guessed already), but for my youngest son. He has discovered a new passion - airsoft - and wanted us to help him make the assault shield according to instructions I'd found on an airsoft forum. I must remember not to get so involved in my sons' interests because it can mean waiting in a queue to cut a wooden panel for half an hour and cost money I hadn't reckoned on spending...

Anyway, once we had the materials, we of course had to get down to it. My dearly beloved helped out with the jigsaw to cut the wood down a bit, cut out the rectangle in the middle and trim the plexiglass. My son did the painting and I held down the panel during sawing, made helpful suggestions, and printed out a template of the word SWAT to be sprayed on later in white. It'll look something like this when finished:

Assault shield

Don't I have fun?! My son's new airsoft gun arrived today. It's a replica UZI (cybergun mini) with a force of 0.08 joules that shoots plastic BB pellets. The regulations for such guns are draconian in France. Minors cannot obtain replicas that fire over 0.08 joules so my son spent a long time looking for one that was suitable. He's trying to set up an airsoft team with his brother and friends, and find some land they can play on as my garden is approximately 100m² and absolutely useless for skirmishing.

He tried it out at lunch time and was ecstatic to find it had recoil. I know nothing about guns so cannot tell you why this is important but I think it proves that it's not a crappy toy but powerful enough to jerk just like a real gun.

Unfortunately there is no ready-made team in the area for them to join. The one that did exist no longer does, probably because the boys in it became young men and joined the adults. I'll be interested to see how many local parents agree to let their kids join my sons' team, and buy a gun so they can participate. One has already said no. The boys might also have to spread the word wider than among immediate friends in order to get a good number of members. Assuming too that they have somewhere to play... (cue letter to maire to request permission to play on public land - that'll be fun!).

Anyway, it's better than sitting in front of the XBox and I'm all for encouraging (respectable) passions. Plus my son worked well in school this year, and I believe that boys who do well should be rewarded.

My eldest is supposed to be doing the donkey work of setting up and managing the airsoft team in which case he can add it to his cv if he applies to a British university. It'll look a bit better than 'Going to parties' and 'Playing XBox games'.

As for my involvement, I'm hoping to get back to my Kindle very soon.

Guns and Further Madness

Today's news is that I went out last night, into Montpellier, on a Thursday, which is THE day for going out. I went out with some buddies confidently expecting to be met there by my TWDB. He was on his way back from Lyon by train. Not long before he was due to arrive in Montpellier he sent me a text warning me he'd be late because there were 'people with guns near Valence station!'.

People with guns? Near Valence station? What madness was this? You might expect gun-toting loonies in Marseille, capital of gangland revenge shootings, but near Valence? What was happening near Valence that couldn't take place in Valence itself? The mystery was never solved because no further information came my TWDB's way and he had to content himself with arriving before midnight and going straight home. (In fact it made the news this morning.)

We, on the other hand, went to L'Atelier where further madness was developing nicely. L'Atelier is a cool, right-on place (where I stick out like a sore thumb), but I enjoy going there because it's never as it should be according to my buddies. They only have to say that it's always packed and full of buzz for me to turn up and the place is 3/4 empty. They only have to say that the food is pretty good for the kitchen to have an off day because the chef is absent.

So I was keen to experience another atypical soirée and I was not disappointed. We were sat just inside the building (which was open along its length) next to a large table set outside where a group of friends were enjoying the warm evening air. Everyone perches on bar stools except for those at a few tables inside. We ordered some rosé and a mixed plateau of charcuterie, cheese and smoked salmon. Very tasty it was, the smoked salmon being a nice surprise because it's rare to find the good stuff in restaurants (unless you're paying an arm and a leg).

We were having a jolly time and it was all going swimmingly when we were suddenly deafened by a woman yelling 'Hey! Hey! Hey!' at the top of her voice to some music that was playing. She then shimmied up from the back of the restaurant to her table at the front next to ours - the large one - yelling and punching the air as she did so. I don't know what illicit substance she was on but it was certainly 'doing it for her'. She went dancing back inside, grabbed the patron and got him to rock 'n' roll with her, danced back outside to her group waving her arms and imperilling those nearby. Like me. I had my back to her and my friends were convinced I was going to come into the line of fire of her flailing arms.

Fortunately she did nothing more than back into me a couple of times so I did not go home covered in bruises and have some hard explaining to do at work the next day... At one point she was head-banging her hair which was in a pony tail so that it twirled round and round, up and down and every which way, and enjoying the sensation. I'm amazed she managed not to topple over or puke which shows she can't have been drunk. To and fro she went doing her crazy dance and providing the evening with some remarkably lively entertainment.

I leaned over to her table and asked one of her friends if she was all right. "Mais oui," said she, "She's just decompressing because she's under a lot of pressure at the moment." I asked her what she did. "She's a lawyer" was the reply. A lawyer! I must admit, I was a tad surprised and made a mental note of her face so if I ever needed a new lawyer and met her by chance, I would remember that she's a complete nut-case and has a funny way of decompressing.

In the end we left her to it. She didn't take up our totally unnecessary offer to give her a lift home funnily enough, and I rather hope she didn't have anything terribly important to deal with today...