Home advantage

For the first time this year, everything fell into place. My beloved was home, OGCN were at home and the weather was glorious. As a consequence, we decided a trip to Stade du Ray was in order.

We parked our car at the tram terminus and hopped on the tram for the two stops the stadium, to pick up our tickets. There’s never any problems buying tickets on the day. We had some time in hand, so we retired to a local bar for some fortification.

Three days after qualifying for the quarter-finals of the French Cup at Drancy, OGCN were back on home turf taking on Sochaux, a team with whom we’ve had some memorable encounters in recent seasons. And when I say “memorable”, I should add that the result has generally not been in our favour.

We started brightly with several shots on target in the first 20 minutes. Frankly, we weren’t looking like a team staring down the barrel of relegation. Our efforts were finally rewarded by a goal in the 29th minute from Nemanja Pejcinov, following a 45m free-kick from Anthony Mounier.

Sochaux lost arguably their best player (Anin) in 44th minute following a second yellow card after a handbags at dawn set to with Clerc. There was barely a reaction from the 18 Sochaux fans (yes, I counted them) in the away enclosure.  

During half-time, we’re generally treated to a shoot out between two local junior sides. This evening, we were also afforded a bunch of nubiles dancing to opera. I’m not sure that it was truly appreciated by the fans. Just stick to the football.

In the second half, OGCN failed spectacularly to exploit their advantage. Indeed, on a number of occasions I did a quick headcount just to check that Sochaux only had 10 men on the pitch. Early on in the second half, Sochaux had a goal rightfully disallowed, for a foul on the goalkeeper.

Sochaux, however, continued to press their disadvantage and, in the final 20 minutes, looked as if they might score. Particularly, as their substitutes kept barging into and knocking flat our goalkeeper. These were all the size of players who in the UK would prompt the chant “Who ate all the pies?” Pies are not served at Stade du Ray: pizza, pissaladiere, club sandwiches and tourte aux blettes, but no pies. I’m not sure whether these are the preserve of northern French clubs, but I suspect not.

In any event, we held on to take all three points and now lie 14th in the division. The same place as occupied by my beloved boys in claret and blue, after their regrettable 2-2 draw with Fulham.

Today’s ride started under climatic conditions similar to last week: wet and damp. However, the sun soon burned through the clouds, heating us up and drying out the roads. Today’s pointage was in Valbonne village, always an enjoyable ride and an opportunity for a little window shopping as we ride through the village.

I lingered at the pointage just long enough to exchange greetings with one of the home club’s members, an American lady who’s lived here for over 20 years and who’s a pretty good rider. I decided to return via a different route and then headed for my regular watering hole for a coffee and the newspapers where I settled down to wait for my beloved to put in an appearance.

We returned home for lunch and an afternoon spent dealing with various work-related matters. We decided to turn on the new all-singing, all-dancing, HD television and, much to our surprise, it worked. We travailled happily side by side enjoying the Chelsea v Liverpool match, followed by Real Madrid v Real Sociedad. I have to be honest, this TV has been one of my beloved’s more inspired purchases.

Lights out

We woke yesterday morning at 07:00am to find that it had been raining in the early hours but was now, thanks to a stiff wind, starting to dry out. The sky was positively leaden and, while we doubted we would make it to the pointage, after 4 days off the bike, we were keen to get out. On the way to the club’s rendez vous point, we passed a few, but not many, other cyclists.

About a dozen hardy club mates had gathered and, as we set off, it started to rain again, albeit gently. The wind was still blowing hard so I tucked in behind our former Directeur Sportif, not a good choice of protection as he’s much smaller and lighter than me, but then aren’t they all? As he dropped back to chat to someone, I went to the front of the bunch and rode alongside M Le President. The rain had now started falling in earnest as we approached the Promenade des Anglais, M Le President muttered something about his waterproof and dropped back. I forged on, head down, only to be pulled back by my husband who advised that everyone else had turned tail and headed for home. We wisely did the same.

Predictably, we got drenched riding back and it took several minutes under a hot shower to warm us up. We went out to collect the newspapers and some shopping,  returning home resigned to spending the rest of the day indoors, in the warmth. We spent a lazy afternoon watching a veritable feast of derby matches: Everton v Liverpool, Arsenal v Chelsea, Barcelona v Real Madrid. The more fancied teams winning in all three games. My two teams had both played on Saturday. The boys in claret and blue had a hard fought home draw with Spurs while Nice, away at Sochaux, were undone by a goal which didn’t actually go over the line, according to the replay.

While enjoying the football, I pottered around in the kitchen preparing some meals as my beloved is home all week and will, no doubt, require feeding at regular intervals.

We were woken early this morning by loud claps of thunder and lightening overhead and when we got up found we had no electricity. I could see that the other apartment blocks in the Domaine had lights at a number of the windows; obviously the problem was restricted to our building. Actually, it was restricted to our block of the building, although the lift and the lights in the common parts were working, we just had to wait for the problem to be fixed.

At 11:00am, I decided to investigate what progress was being made to repair the problem and, in the lift, I bumped into my neighbour’s housekeeper who lives in one of the other buildings. She advised that the lightening had thrown out the circuit breaker. I said we’d tried that already, without success. We returned to the flat, she opened the door to the fuses and pressed a switch, in the bottom left-hand corner, which we didn’t know was there, and voila, normal service was resumed. Needless to say, we both felt, and looked, more than a little sheepish.