Homeward bound

A couple of weeks ago, Debrah said "Why don't you come over to London for our wedding anniversary?" (last Saturday - the 16th)

For whatever reason, we had no bookings for the middle weekend in August - people midweek either side but none for the weekend. So I jumped at the opportunity - so that we would be together for our anniversary, so that Debrah wouldn't spend a weekend alone in London and so that I had a break from the daily routine here - and I'm very glad that I did.

Of course, since booking the tickets, I could have sold this weekend several times over but I knew that was going to happen and just decided to ignore it.

So it was that I caught the Saturday afternoon flight to London - it had been 4 months since my last visit in mid April. I was excited about going and yet felt a bit daunted by the prospect. I guess the thing that made it all ok, and the big difference from previous trips, was that I was just going to see Debrah and not going to work for a part-time London job.

So we spent Saturday night and all day Sunday just lounging around in each others company watching the Olympic Games (or limpics as it's referred to in our household), eating and drinking and chatting and reading the papers.

Of course, we couldn't have picked a better weekend to watch British athletes excelling on the world stage. As ever, from our prone position in the bed, still in our night clothes late into the day, papers strewn around, we couldn't help but marvel at the dedication and strength of character and pain and heroicness of our medal winners and, blubbed with them all when our dirgelike national anthem was played, and blubbed even more with our even more heroic near-misses (womens rowing fours being the prime example).

The whole thing made the start of the new Premiership season seem like an irrelevance and although I watched Match of the Day for the first time in about a year, it all seemed very much the same as ever and not all that. Whereas I couldn't wait to wake up and see what new superlatives our boys and girls in China had reached whilst I was asleep.

I also realised how much I miss the BBC when I'm in France when it comes to sport action. France 2 and 3 do a very reasonable job I'm sure for their countrymen but it leaves me lacking a bit when I am trying to keep up with things over in Peking - you see the French are good at swimming, so I saw a lot of that, but are pretty useless at bikes (ditto the whole world compared to 'Team GB' - hate that phrase ) and boats, so haven't seen as much of that as I would have liked. I have seen a lot of fencing and judo and handball ( a sport we have no idea about in the UK) because that is where the French have eeked out a few medals or have a possibility of one. C'est la vie - as they say here.

I also missed the nuances of the fabulous commentary provided by the BBC - what a joy it was to get 36 hours worth. The French commentary is too fast for my understanding and (apart from the girl on the swimming who squeaked like a stuffed toy every time a frenchie got a medal) left me with a sense of missing something - which I was, the BBC.

Anyway, we aren't competing against the French - we just have to win more golds than the Aussies - job done.

Back in France all was as I left it - the sun was out and it was a bit too steamy to deal with the big pile of ironing and the suite that had to be got ready for new guests tomorrow - but sorted they are.

I was very glad of my time at home though - I am already missing Debrah - and Gabby and Steve and Clare and Adrian and John and Brendan and Colin and Sue and Michael and ......