News and booze

Thought I might do a round-up of the month. Not the toxic, glyphosate type which kills every living thing in sight, but an environment-friendly John Craven-type Newsround.

Sport
I've given up zumba. Not a biggie, but when I went to the first session of the 'rentrée', it was a bit tough on the old knees. Nothing to do with having done zero sport during the summer because it was so hot (except for walking in Wales), but everything to do with age-related decrepitude. My DB suggested that perhaps zumba was for osteoarthritis-free youth and that I could do something else. The truth hurts, but less than a dodgy knee.

It just so happened that I had to get some sporty clothes for my youngest in Intersport behind Carrouf, and what did I see opposite? A gym. And not just any old outrageously expensive 1OO€+ per month temple of the vain and oily, but a 245€ per year basic gym with a nice age range of the young and fit, to the more mature trying desperately to ward off osteoporosis and muscle shrivel.

When I popped over to look inside, I was pleased to find nice kind lads in charge, one of whom told me all about the gym, didn't make me feel like an old crock who had no place in a centre of fitness, and generally made me very welcome. So I went back the next day and signed myself up, and my eldest.

I go two to three times a week, take my Kindle, and am happy I can go whenever I want (6am to 11pm) whatever the weather. I even have a personal fitness plan that is training me to be hail and hearty, strong of bone, and firm of bum.

Age
I'm older than I was at the beginning of the month. It was my birthday (50+) which had to be a low-key event because it was mid-week. Otherwise of course I would have had a party for the masses... As it was, a friend took me out for a ladies-who-lunch lunch in a ladylike boutique restaurant called 'Déjeuner sur l'herbe' where you can buy the chairs you sit on if you so wish. I didn't, I just wanted to eat and chat, as you do in a restaurant. We had a very jolly time, even quaffing on a naughty work day glass of wine.

In the evening, I went to an InterNations bash. My co-Ambassador and I organised it for my birthday so I could celebrate it with a bunch of jolly people even on a Tuesday.

Happy Birthday me! I'm rocking the charity shop top!

When I arrived, I ordered a G&T to celebrate, and one was forthcoming. My co-Amb said she would get my drink and another G&T appeared. Turns out there was a little mix-up and this one had no home. When I told the patronne it was my birthday, she instantly gave me the second drinkie poo, so there I was, Two-Gins Sarah (see photo above). I got very merry (see below).

One G&T down

One of my buddies got everyone to sing ''Happy Birthday' and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

It was my eldest's birthday this month too. He is no longer a snotty teenager, but a go-getting young man of 20! Well, hopefully the go-getting will kick in at some point... and he has yet to dip his toe in the gym...

My son on his way to a gala event, suit bought 30mins prior...

Happy Birthday son, just kidding, etc.

Coding
It's a long, hard slog learning C sharp. I did very little over August with the result that I had to revise everything I'd done at the beginning of September, reviewing nearly all the videos and my notes so I could pass a little test. In order to boost my shit memory, I'm taking a complex of vitamins B and C, the sort of thing they give to Alzheimer sufferers...

The coding challenges often involve solving puzzles, and as I rarely use my brain in that way, it's like pulling teeth. My DB assures me it'll get easier, but I can just feel the rusty cogs cranking up in my brain trying to make head or tail of the problem.

#SavetheCulture
I joined a Facebook cultural Ponzi scheme which involved books. Getting up to 35 books back, was the pull that convinced me. All I had to do was send a book that I loved to one person, put my name on a list, and wait for the best-loved books of others to come flooding in.

Well, I didn't get quite 35 books back. But I did get two. That's two more than zero, so it's a win! I sent off one of my old favourites - Mrs Frampton by Pam Gems - not Great Literature, but a merry read by a fabulous author (of plays for theatre and tele). I got back 'The Deptford Trilogy' by Robertson Davies, and 'Stiff' by Mary Roach both of which look fab.


I can't remember anything else for the moment (not sure those pills are working yet...), so that's it for this post.

Coming down from on high

It's over. We've had the sport, the closing ceremony and the athletes' parade. What am I going to do with myself?

The Olympics were stupendous; the Paralympics were stupendous and a revelation. What a summer, indeed what a year, starting with the Queen's Jubilee. The crowds have been out in force since the Spring, culminating in the huge numbers that lined the route of the parade despite it taking place on a Monday afternoon. I couldn't be there of course, but I was following it on the live feeds of the Times and Telegraph online, plus the BBC.

It was truly inspiring to see the athletes of TeamGB (both) put in their best performance, and heartbreaking when something went wrong. The worst was seeing some of the bad calls made by the judges. I'm thinking in particular of Jody Cundy and the javelin thrower Nathan Stephens neither of whom did anything that had not been done before and got harshly disqualified for it. The downs of sport plunge very low.

What have I taken away from the summer's fun? Respect in droves, certainly. Respect for the stunning performances of our best athletes and also for all the Paralympians who show us how much can be achieved whoever you are.

Also more understanding of the relentless, grinding work that goes into making an elite athlete. It doesn't just happen, it's not achieved by being famous, and it definitely requires dedication, skill, guts, courage and good sponsorship. Our vapid famous for being famous celebrities show up very poorly when compared with our athletes who pour all their blood sweat and tears into being a success. Hopefully the new role models of our youth will be this year's Olympic and Paralympic winners rather than a loser from Big Brother.

My eldest son is going to try out sprint training this year. He's already the fastest in his class and I'm hoping he will enjoy taking his talent a bit further. This summer I came back from my mum's with all my certificates from regional school athletics meetings, and told him that he will be following in a family tradition. His grandfather was Victor Ludorum at his school, his father was very sporty and I was pretty sporty too.

He's got some good genes and it's great to make the best use of them!

VTT at Bessilles

Sunday was the day of the mountain bike (VTT) competition. I only had a vague idea where to go, so followed the car of the club prez. I really must remember to buy a new map of the area - I finally got round to chucking out all the old ones as they've changed all the road names and I was really none the wiser with one of these maps or without.

I had to cope with an early start, getting up on a Sunday at 6.30am! That was tough as I was just sinking into a post way too early waking up second-wind snooze. There was a ton of stuff to remember - picnic lunch, bikes, helmets, kit, licences, water, jackets, plastic gum protection (yeah, still have to use that for eating), head. I forgot the crisps for lunch.

The competition took place at the Base de Bessilles out towards Pezenas way. The local bike club organised it, sponsored by Hérault Sport, and it was really well attended. We, of course, had no idea about anything, never having been to a VTT competition before so started off by running round like headless chickens.

Eventually we got ourselves sorted, found where to register, the guy who fixed the orienteering supports onto the bikes (the guy we'd followed...), and where to start.

My youngest was the first to go, setting off having never done orienteering on a bike or in a competition. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. He obviously had listened to the instructions and understood what to do because he came back within the 45mins with his paper full of notches. I was really impressed.

Eventually my eldest set off too, with a harder set of posts to find, and he too arrived back within the time with his paper full of notches. I'd had to rush out the day before to buy them watches so they could monitor the time, and cycle pants so they'd be comfy and look the real deal.

The day was a sunny one, but there was a nip in the air especially when the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and it was pretty windy. We decided to eat our picnic in the back of the car out of the wind and toasted nicely by the sun. There was no way I was going to carry a heavy cool bag the 200m or so down to the grassy field - what I needed was one of those jolly red wagons to take the weight off...

After lunch and a laze in the sun, it was time for the Xcross race. All the competitors in the same age group start together, the little ones doing 2km and my eldest 10km. The longer races looked pretty tough, with steep climbs and sharp corners. Amazingly, my youngest came in an easy second so we were all very proud - this was his first competition after all.

There was a huge number in my eldest's category and at the start someone in front of him fell and caused a moment of havoc as the others tried to negotiate around him. The best of the bunch were very obviously way ahead of the rest and shot off, shot round the course, and finished easily. My eldest got a good taste of how hard it is, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Neither finished on the podium as the total of the two races was the criteria used to assess position. It was a bit galling to see the girls who'd come in last way after the others get up on the podium for second and third place simply because there were only three of them competing. It's a shame that more girls don't join in though. I would have loved to do that when I was young.

Verdict on the day: they loved participating in the competition and want to do more. Great!

String ma bow...

When one thinks of a sportsman (or woman) one thinks of a lithe body, taut muscles and flat belly. The quantity of muscle depends on the sport although you can have too much of a good thing (in my opinion) - think body-building.

At the other end of the belly scale you get archers. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they aren't sportsmen (or women), but if you passed one in the street you wouldn't look twice. Maybe that's not fair. Okay, if you were on the beach and noticed one jogging, you wouldn't think 'oooer, phwaaar, there goes a god!' (like I did when I saw a couple of sportsmen participating in the Mediterranean Games a few years ago. Every female head turned and watched them go past, in admiration. I can't say what the male heads were thinking however, but it probably wasn't too pleasant...) No, you'd probably think 'oh, poor sod, yeah, I hate jogging too...'

While they may not be joggers, however, they compensate by having a steely eye and steady hand. This weekend the European Archery Championships were going on in Nimes. My youngest loves archery and has broken many a toy bow, so I thought it would be of general interest and a nice outing to go along and have a look. I hoped that there would be activities to interest budding archers, like an area where children could have a go, and stands selling toy bows and arrows.

Some hope. This was a serious affair, for serious archers. We started off in the stands area. It seems there are two main types of bow: the long one; and one with pullies. Did you know a pully bow existed? No, neither did I. It actually looks like an instrument of torture, or a device for getting stones out of horses' shoes (joke). Having looked it up, I realise it's called a 'compound bow', for obvious reasons. They are futuristic developments on the standard bow which is long and elegant, and were being used alongside standard bows so it must just be a question of preference.

One Korean company was advertising their bows, made of carbon fibre as suffering from only 0.1% breakage. Normal breakage is 3% apparently. At over 400Eur a bow, that's quite something.

We looked out for a kiddy stand, skinning our eyes for a little frivolity amongst the seriousness of carbon fibre bows, stabilisers, arrows, arrow-making equipment, arrow-holders, hand protectors, visors etc. I felt the organisers had missed an opportunity to attract young blood and decided to tell them. The boys were very disappointed that the only thing they could do was observe. They like action!

I found the French Federation and asked for a list of archery groups in our area. They didn't have one... I then suggested that there should be something to attract children. I was told that there wasn't really room (pah - rubbish) but that the World Cup was taking place in June (23-28) near Toulouse (Boé) outside, and there I'd find activities for children.

Totally unmollified, the boys and I went to watch some of the competition. Inside a sports-hall, a line of archers were practising. They were very close together it seemed, arranged in pairs aiming at two sheets of three targets each. When they started competing, they would get a maximum of 30 points per round. We watched four rounds, and the world champ had notched up 120 points thus far. He did not have a belly, strangely enough, but a lady on the end was 7-8 months pregnant and still competing...

It was by then lunch time, so we left the strangely un-sportsman-looking sportsmen and snuck into Quick. It was supposed to be a treat. My bacon long burger was anything but. I'm going to write and complain... It was tepid, dry and tasteless. Funnily enough, we saw some of the archers(and their bellies) in there too...

French Days

The beautiful southern French blue sky and brisk nip in the air encouraged my parents, the boys, and I to take a turn at the 'parcours de santé' de St Sauveur. This is an area of garrigue where you can jog, trek, bike ride, walk, or stroll shaded by old and wind-bent pine trees along stony paths of varying widths and rockiness according to whether you are on the jogging track, the mountain bike track or the push-chair path.

Being the garrigue, rosemary and thyme grow in abundance together with other local bushes, teasel and brambles. My youngest took his bike which used to belong to his brother, and has 5 gears. He was busy getting used to dealing with them as well as keeping going along the stony paths; up and down, over rocky outcrops, gravelly sections, and smoother speedy bits.

Every so often we stopped to do the exercises which are posted along the way. The instructions have fairly recently been vandalised and the pictures scraped off so it's basically anyone's guess what you're supposed to be doing unless you happen to be an old regular, like me, in which case I can remember the movements.

Even my father (75) joined in with sit-ups and push-ups, and we also did pull-ups, balancing exercises and walked bracingly. The boys found fallen branches that doubled as machine guns and a Y-shaped branch that my eldest ecstatically told us he could make into a sling, as per 'The Dangerous book for boys'. Much energy was expended in a hearty way, cobwebs were blown away, and everyone felt the better for the outing.

We had spent the morning in town, in Montpellier, following a ride on the tram, where the boys played in the playground on the Esplanade. I sat and observed le tout Montpellier sitting watching their children - lots of dads who seemed to have been instructed to do something, anything, with their little darlings, but just to get them out of the house! One young dad had his mobile phone permanently affixed to his ear, whilst at the same time catching his daughter as she made her escape from the park, or steering her back near his bench and into his line of vision. Such multi-tasking was pretty impressive.

There was a boho type couple dressed in what looked like rags, with their world contained in 2 enormous backpacks, and a little daughter over-dressed for the rather mild air in a woolly hat, her coat under a sheepskin sleeveless jacket . My boys were rushing about in trousers and tee-shirts having discarded their faux leather jackets.

We had a coffee in the sun on the Place de la Comedie and discussed the sartorial elegance of the passers-by. Considering that the French are supposed to have an innate sense of dress, it was hardly an impressive display, with most people looking pretty casual, or like a rag bag, or somewhat inappropriately over-dressed (sparkly skirt, killer heels, push-chair, long scraggy hair). It must have been a bad day, or they were all tourists... Well, an international film festival is in full swing at the moment at the Corum, so maybe they were all attendees from elsewhere.

Having just prodded my pecs, I am happy to assure you that they are feeling delicate, so not only was the exercise extremely pleasant, but it also helped to tone me up. I'd better not play tennis for a couple of days though!

Sporting times

This year I must play tennis.

I've just bought tennis rackets in bulk, signed up at the local tennis club, learned the name of the tennis coach and spent an eye-watering amount of money.

So, now I'm obliged to play. There's nothing like financial investment to concentrate the mind!

Today was the 'associations' day where all the local clubs get together in one place and make themselves available for registration and information. It's a great way to get moving at the beginning of the 'year'. The Maire considers every occasion a good one for an aperitif, and as we got there late, the aperitif was in full swing. This made the whole event even more pleasurable, although I think I left my cheque book at the tennis club. Was it the effect of quaffing 'muscat de Lunel' at the same time as signing on to play tennis?

I have been trying to enthuse my eldest with the idea of scouting. It would be a terrific experience for him and enable him to have adventures and share character-building activities with his peers and the young men who provide leadership. We are going on a scouting picnic tomorrow so he gets the feel of it. One of his pals from school is a scout, so the omens are good, especially as this lad seems to be a very nice boy, if you know what I mean!

My youngest is signed up for swimming lessons - vital in this part of the world where every other person has a swimming pool and the sea is 35 minutes away. So the boys will be able to be busy, and also have time to get bored (so important!).

I look forward to a more active year and cast off my couch potato tum!