19th May 2017 - Niort (h) part 2

The day Alex moved to York was the day Lens trips became a thousand times easier. I could now break up the journey with a stop off at his house (beer, curry and bed thrown in) and didn't have to set off at outrageously stupid o'clock to catch a decently-timed Eurostar or Ferry. Living near Newcastle has many plus points but fairly quick access to Lens is not one of them! He also followed the northernlensois official directive: "Lens colours must be worn: even when walking through Lille". Directive: number 19.7 I do recall. Next morning we set off from a decidedly wet and dismal York at a much more civilised time.
The two hour journey from York to London passed relatively painlessly and we were soon joining the outrageously long queue for the Eurostar. Alex had been so worried about getting our train that he had forbidden me from heading in the direction of the Sir John Betjeman statue so we could decorate him with scarves and a flag. A missed photo opportunity there! Instead we stood for an hour and a half, surrounded by thousands of school kids wearing hi-viz vests, waiting for our Eurostar to be called as they jabbered incessantly. this was supposed to be my break from children.
Bearing mind I had been waiting since August for my return to France, I was extremely excited and it was whilst practising my on-the-spot pogoing in the queue that i received my first brush with officialdom for the day. Okay I was an Englishman dressed in a red and yellow top jumping around while everyone else was sombre and static but it didn't necessarily mean i was drunk or on drugs. Thankfully, the questions were short but sweet and revolved about my reason for travelling: "Hopefully pleasure!"
Did you pack your own bag?
"Yes. My wife wouldn't help me!"
What is your profession?"
"Teacher" It was at this point that he rolled his eyes and realised I was just plain mental and no danger to anyone, even myself, and waved me through.
Alex's Tesco points had come up trumps again and we settled down in first class behind a man on his phone who was heard to utter:
"If you can raise two million then I could do the same..." Mere pennies to us I thought as I tucked into the chicken sandwich I had concocted from a bread roll and chicken (from the chicken and couscous platter: whatever that is) provided with our complimentary meal. I then made my first mistake, according to Alex, as I accepted some wine with my meal...I was too giddy obviously. "Pace yourself!" he advised but I was too out-of-control to listen.
Despite the fact that Lille's Eurostar station is the equivalent of a 70s Science Fiction nightmare with a dried-up water feature and that it is populated by an ever-growing set of Romany beggars: it is always a welcoming sight! It means Lens is only 45 minutes away.
Two became three as we picked up our friend Andrew from outside Les 3 Brasseurs. Apparently, he had already had his first meeting with Lens fans, which had made his day.
We picked up the keys to our now-favourite residence on the Rue Gambetta then Andrew and I headed to Emotion Foot while Alex walked round the corner to a packed La Loco: it was barely 5pm (17:00 in Euro-time) but my anticipation was shared by everyone else. After much deliberation I decided to have Christian Lopez' name on the shirt I had bought in August. The other options were: Bostock and Zoubir but if promotion was earned then I felt it would have been his goals that had been a major part....and he also stood the best chance of being here the following year. Being voted Ligue 2 player of the year would have raised Bostock's profile considerably and would he be contented being a big fish in a small Ligue 2 pond again next year?
The next few hours passed in a blur of singing, drinking, eating and hat distribution. My new collection of hats followed a pirate theme with Jack Sparrow-esque dreadlocks added for good effect. Despite Alex's refusal to join in, Jérémie and his friends were well up for it along with a good group of bystanders. The song "We've got a hat!" was frequently repeated in between mouthfuls of merguez sausage and frites and sips of Ch'ti beer. Oh how proud my family were when I had spent any spare moments sewing them on prior to the trip. All my hard work had paid off.
The photo against the Lens grafitti wall followed a hard-core rock theme, although Jérémie didn't quite understand the instructions and just went for unhinged psychotic.

No matter how many times I emerge from the trees in the small park to see Stade Bollaert-Delesis, it never fails to make my hairs stand on end. It's redevelopment for Euro 2016 only made my favourite ground even better. if you can fall in love with bare concrete towers then this upgraded vision is heaven. The ground was a sell-out for the second match running and the anticipation and nervousness that hung in the air was tangible: with a large dose of fear casseroled in for good effect. This was it. Time to really believe in miracles!

The moment I stepped through the turnstile, however, I felt a tingling sensation of deja vu. Maybe it was the northernlensois Union Jack hanging from my back or the yellow knotted duster hat complete with a hundred lovingly-sewn-woollen-dreadlocks or maybe it was my Anglicised French accent, but I was asked to step to one side.
This time I had no Newcastle shirt to annoy security (see last season's Auxerre match) only a maybe OTT pseudo-pirate-football-fan get-up. I was asked to stand on one of five crosses marked in chalk on the ground while a very friendly Alsatian dog trotted back and forth along the line-up of five fans. What it was about me it liked, I had no idea. But every time it passed me, it leaped up and placed its paws on my chest. Was it my Aroma de Tyneside or l'Air de Poulet (from our pet chickens) that attracted it? Whatever it was, the dog liked me. As Jérémie readied himself to bring the benefit of nearly four hours drinking to my aid, the large security guard interrogated me.
"As-tu les fumigenes?" Have you any fireworks?
"Non"
"As-tu les drogues?" Have you any drugs?
"Non"

Each time he passed me, Fido would jump up on me and each time they repeated the same questions and I gave the same reply. Okay so I didn't exactly look like a completely stable individual but that didn't mean I needed sulphur or cocaine to make me excitable: my nervous energy did that job quite nicely on its own. Finally, just like the customs man, I was released as they shook their heads and Jérémie was able to relax. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, again, we headed for the rapidly-filling Marek: still well over an hour to kick off!.

Pumped up pre-kick-off with pirate hats and Euro 2016 freebies.