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| Baby Mitch and his new shirt. |
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| Ou est la voiture? |
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| Setting up camp |
Baby Mitch the teddy bear had now inherited Jemaa the Leopard's checky Lens shirt and was the only addition to our party: Jemaa's transfer to Auxerre had seen to that as well as his poor form the previous year. Jas hadn't liked his tendency to make the most of the slightest knock either. As a tough tackling Northumberland Girls' League footballer herself she wished he could have followed her example more often: but he hadn't.
There had been a predictable exodus of players with Runje, Varane, Roudet, Monrose, Bedimo amongst the players that had gone. They were replaced by the arrival of Le Man's Ludovic Baal, Bordeaux's Pierre Ducasse, Reim's Julien Toudic (for the only paid fee of about €500 000) as well as two young players from Strasbourg: Rothenfelder and Mathlouthi.
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| Where has Summer gone? |
A Friday night trip to watch Amiens against Boulogne proved to be both cold and boring as our insistence that it was still summer didn't mean you should wear shorts at night. We were frozen by the time the final whistle and then there was the drama of once again losing our hire car in the car park and after nearly half an hour of clicking the unlock button on the car we were relieved to spot its yellow indicators winking at us from the nearly empty car park.
The following day we set off to watch the first team train because I had thought there was a public session. Our suspicions were aroused when we arrived at the training ground to find the gates shut and no-one around. A man at the gate told us that there was no public session but when I explained that we were over from England for the match he agreed to give us a guided tour of the training facilities. He was such a lovely man that he took us everywhere and then introduced us to the coaching staff who seemed either impressed or mystified that we were there. He told us he used to play for Lens but when we got home and looked up his name: Hervé Arsène, it turned out he had played nearly 200 games and had been part of the Ligue 1 winning team of 1998 with Jean-Guy Wallemme. Both players lovely to chat too and so down to earth.
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| Then.... |
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| ...and with Jas |
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| David Pollet |
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| No nonsense defender Gabriel Cichero |
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| Near arrival Pascal Berenguer |
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| We think Ludovic Baal.. |
By the time the game arrived we had finished doing the touristy bit, Arras market and its tunnels, the monument and battlefields at Vimy as well as playing endless games of football with some huffy local boys and table tennis, and were now ready for the final event of the holiday: the Monday night match: thanks to the uncertainty of Ligue 2 TV programming we had had no idea whether the game would have been played on the Friday, Saturday or Monday until a few weeks beforehand. This would have made trains and ferries too expensive to book so instead we had had to wait for five days. I was praying it was worth it!
For the first time we were able to get tickets for the Marek and at last able to meet up with one of my friends from Facebook: Macdef. A fantastic character who I had often chatted to and could now count among the two French residents I had met through Facebook.The atmosphere was immense long before kick off but as Jasmine couldn't see over the heads of the fans standing on the bucket seats I carried her for most of the half, both of us doing our best to join in with as many of the chants as we could: a lot of preparative homework having already been done.
In true anti-climactic fashion Monaco took the lead in the first half with a screaming volley into the top corner of keeper Kasraoui's net. The first had been so intense in the first half and tiring making sure Jas could see that we chose another spot in a quieter part of the 'terrace'. It meant we had a great spot for the excitement that was to follow in the second half. First Yohann Demont volleyed home, which excited the school teacher. This was followed by Yahia following up from Cichero's header a few minutes later to give Lens the lead. We had not seen Lens ahead since that game against Boulogne and savoured the moment along with the rest of the 30 000 crowd. However in the last minute Monaco equalised to make the score 2-2.Disappointed as we had been, it had been an exciting game and Lens had shown they could lift themselves away from the bottom three, even if the school teacher wasn't so convincing.
There was a final moment of hire car drama as I miscalculated the amount of petrol we had left and with the needle pointing firmly in the red, Jas and I searched desperately for a petrol station in. Midnight on an A road in France with a flashing petrol light was not the best way to end our holiday but thankfully the satnav came up trumps at the second attempt. Hopefully Lens would now come up trumps with the help of the headteacher.
February 2012 - Boulogne (a)
Months in preparation, this trip was ruined by the weather. Lens' local derby seemed an attractive proposition months beforehand. Guaranteed to be a Saturday, I had arranged to meet Adrian, one of the other English nutters who had fallen in love with Lens. Based near Preston, the plan was to meet him at Dover, me taking a break from a family break in London, to take the ferry over together, meet Jeff at Calais who would give us a lift to the game back to Calais. An ordinary day out!
But no, the sub zero conditions in the Calais region and a promised windchill factor of -20C meant that the entrances to the stadium were inaccessible: covered in ice. Shame because I had been prepared for it!
April 2012 - Le Mans (h)
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| Whitley Bay 6am |
Panic!
Panic!
There was no-one to ask !!!
Eventually I found a portacabin with a bored looking girl...she told me it was in the Place d'Armes and that I could get a bus there. After waiting for 10 minutes I decided that time was getting on. With kick off approaching it would be better to walk into town. So off I went.
The sun was shining as I marched into town so was beginning to feel a bit hot carrying all of my camping gear but I soon reached the Place d'Armes...unfortunately I could find no sign of the hire car firm.
Panic!
Kick off was now in three and a half hours and I hadn't found a car yet or left Calais! It was at this point that my tired mind that had been travelling 11 hours and been baked for the last hour went into meltdown. It decided it was a good idea to go into Calais town to see if I could find anything there....On the way a kind van driver gave me a lift and told me how much he loved Lens and how mad he thought I was coming over for the game although he had no idea where my hire car firm was...neither did the tourist information and neither did Jeff nor Odessa who both searched the internet for me when I rang them in a panic. I attracted many strange looks with my massive rucksack and assorted bags. Finallywithout a better idea, I decided to go back to the ferry port.
As I walked back through the Place d'Armes I spotted the smallest sign on a window behind a litter bin that was my hire car company's logo! Two and a half hours to kick off remained as I finally got into my car for the weekend: wet through with sweat and frazzled from the search. I had to abandon my plan to get a lift to the ground from Mac in Albert so arranged to meet him there.
The next piece of bad news was the traffic jams all the way to Lens so when I eventually parked the car and got to the ground the teams were emerging as I settled down to eat my saucisse americain avec les frites et sauce rouge (sausage and chips with red mayo sauce). There hadn't even been time to visit the shop or sing La Lensoise.
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| What am I doing here? |
Slowly making my back to the car, I once again questioned my sanity and when I arrived at my campsite in Albert just after midnight I questioned it even more. The campsite was empty of tents but at least I had plenty of room to pitch up in. I ignored the temperature reading on the car of 1C
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| The walk back to my tent. |
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| Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis |
For a couple of hours Mac and the owner Thierry chatted to me and made me feel welcome and throughout my time people kept on popping in for a late drink and couldn't believe that I travelled over for the game. I met another of my Facebook friends called Thierry who was similarly delighted to meet me at last: I couldn't believe how welcome I had been made to feel. They kept on quoting the film Bienvenue Chez le Ch'tis. A film I had empathised with immensely and involved a southern frenchman moving to land of the Ch'tis. It reminded me of the difference between people in the Northeast of England and the Southeast. My own experiences of living in London coming to the fore.
"A visitor brays [cries] twice up north: once on his arrival and once at his departure."
My first experience of the Nord Pas de Calais had been a wet night in a Calais campsite yet tonight had been the first time I had experienced the friendliness. Mac, the two Thierrys and everyone who had popped in embraced me as a friend and not a stranger. It was great to belong. The stillness of the night eventually drew me in as did the length of my day so I ambled back to my tent along the quiet, still but welcoming lane.
The next day I spent searching for two of my great uncles' names from the First World War in nearby Poitiers and Thiepval. The weather as I searched turned suitably wet and windy. I wondered how my relatives and all those other soldiers had felt arriving in 1914. It was humbling to be standing there: unable to imagine accurately what they might have gone through and humbly glad not to have to.
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| Poitiers WWI cemetery |
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| Thiepval WWI cemetery |
In the evening I met Jeff. This time we lived it up with a trip to Valenciennes to see them play Toulouse in their new stadium. Wearing my red Middlesbrough scarf to blend in with the red and white home fans I was given a number of strange looks as I walked along wearing my Lens raincoat. Although there was no animosity, maybe I had over-estimated the friendliness between the two sets of fans.
On the way there we walked past the former Nungesser Stadium and it was a sad sight to see the abandoned stadium - only a few months after hosting its last Ligue 1 fixture. It reminded me of Middlesbrough's Ayresome Park where Odessa and I had spent a number of afternoons when we had been courting. Now replaced by the less characteristic Riverside stadium it was quickly knocked down to make way for housing: street names the only reminder of what had been there, I wondered how much of the old atmosphere had been lost. The new ground certainly was impressive and it was good to see that safe standing had been installed along one side. The crowd itself barely filled half of the stadium and only time would tell how they could survive having to pay for this brand spanking new stadium. Tonight though the home fans were pleased with a 2-0 win and Jeff and I had enjoyed visiting a new ground: a stadium that certainly had its own character and had taken account of the needs of their fans in adding safe standing: something that hadn't been an option in England.I didn't cry as I left France the following day but there was a warm feeling that stayed with me back to my own part of the North. Every country, I reminded myself, had a North. I was growing links between two of them and felt all the better for doing so.
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