17th August 2019 Le Havre (h)

The playoffs turned out to be quite a rollercoaster of emotions. The lads played out of their skins. Penalties saw them through against Paris FC, when 8,000 Lens fans stormed Paris. This was followed by the away trip to Troyes. Leading 1-0 after three minutes, Leca had been sent off for arguing, in his usual manner, with the ref. His petulance had been because Troyes had been awarded a penalty. The home team subsequently scored and against 10 men were pushing for the winner. When the game became 10-a-side thanks to another sending off, Lens hearts and hopes grew. In extra time, Simon Banza scored the winning goal that took them to the final playoff against Ligue 1 Dijon. In the two-legged encounter, the teams were locked at 2-2 with 20 minutes to go when young Orleans-bound Vachoux made a complete pair of howlers that sealed Lens' place in Ligue 2 for at least another season.

Today, for my 50th birthday weekend, where else would I want to be? So, Mrs Lensois and I headed south for the charms of Northern France.

Lens is my oyster!

The journey down proved to be one of the worst journeys south we had ever had. Setting off from Tyneside at 10am, traffic jams, tailbacks, lights, roadworks, demonic possession. All these delays congealed to make it one long journey. Instead of arriving about four o'clock, as planned, we finally arrived in the town of Hyde and a welcome couple of drinks and meal, five hours late. Luckily, Mrs Lensois and I were still on speaking terms, if unable to converse. The A1 is now on my blacklist of roads to avoid.
The next morning, after an early start, it took only ten minutes along the back roads to reach the Eurotunnel and we were able to get an earlier train under the Channel.
From then on, everything went smoothly. No delays on the Eurotunnel or on the A26 and we arrived in Lens about 11am. The town centre was beginning to fill up. I decided that my first priority would be to purchase the new shirt.
I decided that Mounir Chouiar would have the honour of decorating my back. The youngster had already turned down a move to Parma and seemed destined to stay. His first two goals of the season had also secured the first two wins. I also thought he had been different class in the playoffs so Chouiar it was. After showing the club shop's printing man the correct spelling, the visit was over. Mrs Lensois was mightily relieved I hadn't bought her the extremely tasteful Lens logo ear-rings. Nice!
From our hotel balcony, one of Lens' finest car parks welcomed us. I was later told, by Pascal, that it had been the site of the club's first pitch. Apparently, the rich young men of Lens used to play home games on the very spot on which 'my car park' stood. My imagination really wasn't feeling it.
A trip to La Loco, a welcoming Ch'ti and a Fricadelle Americain would cure that feeling of apathy. As a birthday present, Bruno had come up trumps and, although it was a lot harder to get VIP tickets, he had provided tickets in the middle level of the Delacourt: the stand my girls and I had sat in nearly ten years ago. A repeat of that 3-0 win would have been nice, I wasn't even bothered who got the hat-trick
It looked to be quite possible. In a tight first half, with few chances, a lobbed effort was clawed away by the Le Havre keeper and in the second half,  Gillet guided home a cross to give Lens the lead! This was going to be some birthday, I had decided. However Lens created, and missed, a sitter then they seemed to go to pot! The players were completely unable to pass to each other and Le Havre suddenly woke up to the fact they were on the same pitch.
Soon the vistors were on top and after some comedic defending, they were level then ahead. They had not read the script! This was my 50th! Chouiar came on. Surely, he would work his magic! No, he was as useless as the rest of them and the exodus started early for many.

A sad-to-see exodus before the final whistle.

Nothing Mrs Lensois likes
better than shopping at an
Adequate shop!

Another goal late on, sealed the defeat. Once again, Mrs Lensois had failed to see Lens win live. Just once, they could have obliged, but no! The run of draws and defeats would continue.

Lonely steps!
The ground
emptied quickly.

Lens had missed the chance to go second and although the town was busy, there was no jubilation to be had. Was it too much for Mrs Lensois to enjoy the sound of celebratory horns being honked and excited fans shouting as they drove past Chez Muriel? Obviously.
There is nothing better than a good old chat with Pascal and the lads. However, with a small, hungry French child in tow, intent on mischief, the drinking and chats were shortened and Mrs L and I were soon heading off to find somewhere to eat.
Being Northern France in the middle of August, everywhere we tried was closed. Bruno was hosting a wedding reception so Le Jardin was closed to the public. Finally, we struck lucky, or so we thought, with an Indian next to La Loco.
It all looked nice and we had had some brilliant curries in France before. Unfortunately, this was not one of them! Later described as the worst meal Mrs Lensois had ever had, it really summed up our luck on this trip.
At least our room was pleasant, despite the lack of a view: regardless of its history. Sadly, to go with our worst meal, we had the worst sleep.

That toilet looks a little too close to our bed?

Unable to stay at our favourite appartments on Rue Gambetta, I had settled upon, what looked, and was, a smashing room. Spacious, balcony, central location... it had it all. Perfect spot for my 50th birthday celebrations?
However it also had a toilet that was not far from the bed (handy if you were feeling worse for wear, I suppose). On top of this, its cistern decided that it needed to fill up every half hour. When it wasn't filling, there was a steady dripping from inside the pipes: the hotel's version of water torture? If I was being picky, the plastic blind-door millimetres from the toilet was also not ideally placed.
Come Sunday, we were only too ready to escape and head to see Bruno and thank him for the tickets. He had hosted a great wedding, that had gone on until 5am but was still the ideal host, charming and a credit to the city. He also seemed delighted with my gift of my home town Whitley Bay FC's shirt and a signed copy of my Newcastle United book (The 89th Minute: available at bit.ly/89thminute : just in case you didn't know!)
After that, it was off to enemy territory (the outskirts of Lille) to spend a memorable day with Mr Lens himself, Pascal and his family. These two encounters with Lens' finest made the trip. The trip down had been long and tiring, The match, hotel and evening meal had bordered on disastrous but every visit is worth it, when you get time with these warm, caring and down-to-earth people. The whole region is filled with them and they are the reason I keep coming back.
Our spot for Sunday night, was in Lille's city centre, From outside, it looked to be just what the doctor ordered: spacious, balcony, central location. Perfect spot for 50th birthday celebrations?

However, getting in was another thing as the door jammed. After half an hour, and a phone conversation with an elderly landlady who only spoke fast and furiously fluent Ch'ti, her son finally arrived and dismantled the door so we could get in.
Our final night of the weekend was to be spent in Lille's Rue Solferino. There were few bars and no restaurants open for us to celebrate, so it was left to a street take-away to provide our feast. Okay, so they were from Lille but they were still Ch'ti and warm-hearted.

The food of kings!

Party venue!

On the way back, we missed the turning to visit the massive shopping and the chance to stock up on Ch'ti. The final blow was Chouiar leaving Lens to join Dijon at the end of August.
C'est la vie!