Season 2022-3

August 2022 Rennes (h) 

Unbelievably, Lens had briefly gone top. Even so, they were third behind Paris and Marseille: not bad company. 

The writing had been on the wall when Doucoure went to Crystal Palace and Clauss ended up at Marseille. The €40 odd million was spent upon a range of players: Brice Samba arrived after helping Nottingham Forest get into the Premiership after a Wembley Playoff penalty shootout. Jimmy Cabot arrived to replace Clauss from Angers, the Poles: Lukasz Poreba and Adam Buksa arrived from America and Poland. Salis Abdul Samed arrived from Clermont to replace the Douc and Belgium starlet Lois Openda arrived from Bruges after setting the Dutch top league alight, not literally, with 28 goals for Vitesse Arnhem in 68 appearances. 

The big surprise was that superstar Seko Fofana had not gone but until the transfer window closed, nothing was certain. The rumours of English clubs sniffing about were numerous!

In the first three games: the vastly underrated Sotoca had grabbed a hat-trick against last season's bogey boys, Brest (3-2), a heatwave ruined any chance of football at AC Ajaccio (0-0) before Monaco were absolutely hammered 4-1 in the Principality. 

Tonight's opponents had jumped ahead of Lens in the last two seasons and the lads were definitely out for revenge. Of the new forwards, Openda has scored his first goal of the season at Monaco but Polish wonderboy, from MLS outift New England Revolution, had been injured in the Summer, representing Poland, and hadn't played for his new club. 

This game, for me, was to be the first of two consecutive games and to say I was delighted to be getting to two games was an understatement. After a relaxing night spent with Alex in Lille, it was off to Cambrai to see the amazingly friendly but absolutely mental folk of Cambrai. 

Nico was kind enough, once again to put me up, and after a tasty meal at a new pinza restaurant (amazingly like a pizza restaurant) there was to be no early bed for me as the crew took great delight in dragging me to another nightclub: the private club B19. My hopes were raised when the bouncers told us they didn't like to admit people wearing shorts. But sadly my chums weren't to be denied their chance to watch me squirm as they waved us in, patting everyone on the back and bonsoiring the lot of us! 

Not my kind of music

My first (and lasting) impression was of a nightclub for my mum and dad (even though they can't stand any non-classical music). The number of over 60s and 70s on the dance floor was disturbing, especially as the insisted on Salsaing their way though various dj mashups of French hits. I was however impressed with Pipo's mum, who, well into her 70s, seemed to be having a whale of a time and was the life and soul of the party. Delighted that I had told her she was a fashion-setter for wearing odd shoes, she decided to drag me onto the dance floor. However, my lack of connection with the music made me look like the worst of dad dancers and she soon gave up on me. Things went from bad to worse when a vodka platter appeared, complete with glasses, orange juice, coca-cola and ice cubes. Remembering how things had gone downhill when vodka was introduced at a nightclub in Boulogne, I managed to convince Yannick to extract himself from the corner he had hidden himself in and so, at the early evening hour of 2am (for Cambrai), we wandered through the busy streets of the beautiful town. 

The others followed at 5am.

In the morning, I felt reasonably sprightly. The sun was shining and it was matchday! Although it was a 9pm kick-off, we set off just after midday for Pierre's, where Yannick took the opportunity to peruse through our host's collection of 80s Lens shirts. Eventually, he decided upon a rather fetching yellow Europe 1 1985 shirt.
 

Shirt chosen, it was time to make our way to La Loco for a leisurely lunch and drink. A venue that we hadn't visited in quite some time, it was good to be back. Both myself and Alex decided upon the healthy option of Merguez sausage baguette and chips while our French counterparts decided upon salads. We are class acts indeed!

 Next, it was Chez Muriel, and I was delighted to see that there were a good number of visiting fans who had beaten the blockade the police had erected around the town. In their wisdom, they had decided that the thousand or so visiting Rennes fans were likely to run amok around the town centre so had decided they would escort them straight to the stadium. I'm glad to say, this failed completely. What a nice bunch they were, chatting away with everyone, and a great reflection upon their region.

It was also great to see our old mate Kim the Kortrijk fan, who was finally making his first visit to Lens, accompanying Jeremie. When I asked them, where they would be standing, Jeremie quickly informed me they were meeting other friends in the Marek! I tried not to take it too personally.

There was just time for the traditional (ish?) lighting of the flare that had been held by a rather nervous child. THe youngster seemed only too happy to hand the industrial-sized firework over to any adult that would take it.

It was also good to see that shorts and miner's helmets were still in fashion....

Inside the ground, there, directly in front of us, were Kim, Jeremie and and all his friends. 

The game itself was a bit of an anti-climax, yet the Marek, ably supported and complemented by the Delacourt and Trannin stands roared the team on. There certainly had been an increased volume to the ground as the lower levels of these two had been declared as standing areas. They jumped, bounced and sang as loudly as the Marek, despite the paucity of chances. 

At half time there was an appearance from Rennes' new €20million signing, Kalimuendi. The player had been omitted from the visiting team sheet and gave a heart-felt thanks to the Lens fans for their support over the last two years. Everyone hoped that Openda, signed for half that, would prove that Kali would not be missed. Nevertheless, his words were well received: a really decent bloke!

In the second half, it was as if a switch had been flicked. Lens set about their illustrious visitors. Chances started to be created by the home side but there was no way anyone could have anticipated the quality of Fofana's strike.

This was followed by a great piece of trickery from Openda. We were in dreamland, Jeremie and co were on the floor, while Kim could only stand and scream his respectful delight. 

However, Rennes showed their class, with a string of chances that either rolled past the post or were dealt with by the impressive Samba in the Lens goal. Just when we thought it was going to be our day, Rennes pulled one back. The crowd whistled and shouted their way through the final minutes before the referee blew the final whistle. 

Lens had won 2-1 and in the process leapt to the top of the league... for a few hours at least!

The team engulfed Seko Fofana as the fans showed their appreciation for the captain's performance. We could only hope that it wasn't a sign he was on the way out.

There would be a few days to recover before my final game of the trip against Lorient.

Watch the youtube video: https://youtu.be/Jq1rbCB3XXQ

 August 2022 - Lorient (h)

The day after the Rennes game was a Sunday and what a glorious day it was in Lens! The sun was beaming down upon a town that was top of Ligue 1, again. Thanks to Lens playing before the majority of the other teams, they could sit proudly for a few hours more with a near perfect points total of 10 / 12. 

Alex was heading home to York so I would have to fend for myself for the remaining three and a half days of my holiday. Thankfully, Pierre had offered me the use of one of his gites, which I gratefully accepted. 

A relaxed wander down to the local Patisserie was followed by the delightful sensation of freshly cooked pain chocolat melting / crumbling in my mouth. An experience I don't think I will ever grow tired of. 

I walked Alex into town to get his afternoon train back to Lille and on the way discovered a unique pub serving a local beef hotpot dish. It would have been rude not to have visited! Obviously choosing the chips option, the stew itself was made with a local beer and was so jam-packed with beef that we must have had a couple of cows each... not exactly good for our carbon footprint but hey, it was gorgeous!

The pub was decorated in the vintage-style of many local hosteleries. The centrepiece, a 1920s motorbike, was surrounded by various hommages to the era, including an interesting metal advert featuring a blindfolded young lady driving a motorbike with her smiling young man grinning as she drove sans-mains on the handlebars, presumably just before they plummetted to their triumphant ends. They certainly were different times!

My other favourite was the bikini-clad Vespa rider who was enjoying her holiday and showed no signs of donning leathers or, in fact, any kind of protection from being caked in dead flies as she flew along the road or dislodged tarmac being lascerating her. She didn't even have any shoes on! I was shocked... and that's coming from a latchkey kid of the 70s and 80s who was left to run wild! Those crazy French kids... blindfolds and bikinis... I'm sure they would have had some great stories to tell, if they'd lived long enough!

A leisurely walk back under the shadow of Terrils 11/19 took in the walkway and park that surrounded Louvre-Lens. The temptation to sit in the yellow or red deckchairs placed strategically next to the pond, proved too strong as ducks and a wide range of other wildlife frollicked across its surface. If only the miners of the past could see what had been created here... a veritable oasis in the midst of their town. 

After the hectic weekend I'd had, this was just what the doctor ordered. That night, I joined Pierre in watching Paris leapfrog over Lens into top spot. Marseille's 3-0 win over Nice also threatened to put a dampener in things but being 3rd was an amazing situation to find ourselves in... not bad for the 12th budget in Ligue 1.

For the next three days, I was the quintessential writer / videographer in recluse. I visited the Patisserie each morning, walked or ran, wandered, explored, wrote blogs and created videos from my base in the heart of town. Pierre popped by when work permitted: a thoroughly enjoyable few days that led up to the final game against Lorient.

Matchday morning continued in the same fashion, patisserie, breakfast on my little veranda...

... followed by a chilled morning packing the things I didn't need. Around about 3pm I ambled down to the town where the fans were starting to to appear. Despite there still being five hours to go, and a weekday, the matchday bustle was beginning anew. An early tea at La Loco, the usual, was followed by an hour people-watching with a glass of Ch'ti Beer in the sun. My friends soon started arriving and the usual conversations began: predictions, fears, hopes, transfer rumours. With hours to go to the latest transfer window, the big fear was that Sefo Fofana would be whisked away. 

The visitors, Lorient had started off strongly and I didn't feel confident that I would witness another victory. I didn't think tonight could top the emotions of Saturday night. How wrong I was to be proved. 

Yes, there were Pascal, Pierre, Yannick et al but no-one wanted to be more optimistic than predicting a 2-1 win, and when we heard the news that talisman Seko Fofana was not going to be playing, we feared the worst. He was being rested because he was being transferred for megabucks. Every possible destination was mentioned, including those new Northern moneybags, Newcastle United.

A nervy start saw the ball whizz past Brice Samba but the 'goal' was disallowed for offside, thankfully. Suddenly, Lens woke up and when the ball flashed across the visiting goal, there was the dependable Sotoca to sidefoot home. Four minutes later, Wesley Said doubled Lens' lead. Was this the face of the post-Fofana Lens? If it was, they were doing pretty well!

Within nine minutes, either side of half time, Lorient were level. Yet, the fans weren't going to let that get to them! Never missing a beat, the three standing tribunes roared the team on. New-boy Samed scored his debut goal. On the edge of the penalty area, the ball was steered back to him. He guided it out of the reach of the the flailing Yvon Mvogo to restore Lens' advantage. 

The drinks went flying and fans tumbling as new-boy Lois Openda, the replacement for Kalimuendo, tucked away the fourth; only for VAR to rule it out for offside. So it was up to stalwart Sotoca to flick the ball over Mvogo for the actual fourth before Openda skipped his way to the fifth. 

The Stade was overflowing with the joy of 38000 Ch'tis (and me). There were a few chants of "We are ze best" and "Allez Allez Allez..." then we were told to stay where we were. The floodlights were switched off and everyone's phones lit up. Thousands of mini-stars illuminated the pitch and tribunes... something big was afoot!

In true pantomime fashion, a picture of someone's phone flashed up on the screen. It was a message from Fofana!

"Lens Public, I have something to say to you..." it read.

"Ok, Seko, the best thing is to come talk to us at Bollaert!" the anonymous texter replied. "In the centre circle."

Was it goodbye? Thanks for the memories?

A table appeared in the middle of the pitch and two chairs. The rest of the players, obediently remained at the edge of the pitch as Seko marched into the centre circle, where President Joseph Oughourlian, super Franck Haisz and director Arnaud Pouille waited. 

As Bollaert held its breath, the drama unfolded... Fofana was signing an extension to his contract until 2025. On completion the captain was engulfed by his teammates and the stadium erupted once more. This had certainly topped Saturday!

From that moment, every single Lens fan had the broadest smiles as the celebrations went well into the early hours of Thursday morning. Espace Bollaert, the largest bar in the town, rocked to the supporter chants and they even sang of reaching the Champions' League. I suppose we can dream! And why not? 

The drums and trumpets rang out in Autumn's first morning but for the Lens fans, it was still summer. Third in the league, their talisman was staying and all was good in the world. Although my train to Lille would leave in a few hours time, I didn't care, swept along by the positivity that was growing in the little town that had stolen my heart. When a strange man you've never met declares he loves you as well as cats! What more could you want?

It was a bleary-eyed Englishman who took the bus to Lens train station, a few hours later, but a happy one. This last week had been my best ever trip. What would the rest of the season have in store?

And what could I possibly read on the way home?

I'll stick with L'Equipe....

Watch the video here.

 October 2022

My Franck Tattoo

I  had decided to get a tattoo to mark the end of my time taking citalopram and the end of my time as a teacher. 

This was how I announced it on twitter after one of my friends on facebook sent a picture of it to the son of Franck Haise... that sent the internet slightly warm...

It didn't take long for the news to spread as the photo of my arm was shared and commented upon by all and sundry. Most of the comments and reactions were positive although there were those who didn't approve but then that's the nature of the internet. Although, Franck's son gave me a nice message after I explained the reasons behind the tattoo, I decided to put out the following post to explain my reasons to the world....

It's about depression...

This is hard for me to write but first off: I've got a tattoo. I decided to get it to mark the end of seven years (maybe more) when I haven't felt like the person I've wanted to be. My work has been a massive part of my life but a source of worry and self-doubt. I have also had so many great moments and worked with so many wonderful people (you know who you are). Howevewr, changing it after 31 years was the first stage of my journey to becoming a better person: more supportive to my amazing family and someone so much happier than my past self. The next step was to stop the Citalopram that had numbed me to my extremes of emotion: good and bad. Over the years, I've grown used to seeing life in grey and the colour has faded. I want the flashes of colour I have experienced to push out those greys and allow them to be the influence on my view of life. Whatever happens around us, there are many things that we can forget to appreciate, allowing them to get swallowed up by the general malaise that depression can force upon us. If anyone could want a better role model it would be my wife, Odessa. She's been a rock to me, encouraging me to take that first big step and putting up with my emotions that have begun to ping back and forth with a greater frequency since I reduced my dosage to zero. So why the tattoo? My trips to Lens have been an escape from my everyday worries (and believe me I worry about so many stupid and unnecessary things!). During trips, I would still miss the family but I felt I couldn't do them any more harm when I was away (mostly). Hence the club badge. The man is the current manager of Lens, Franck Haise, who has been a role model for this middle-aged man. A positive, calming and supportive figure on the touchline, he has managed the team to great heights that nobody thought possible and boosted the pride of a town that was in the doldrums. Every player he has managed has spoken of him in glowing terms. What better way to think of your ex-boss? This tattoo will be a reminder that my dark, medicated days can eventually emerge into light and colour. Despite the withdrawal weeks being difficult, the brainzaps are becoming less frequent and the lows are nowhere near as low: the light at the end of the tunnel is growing in colour. I know I am lucky to have a fabulous family who can make me laugh, cry and keep going in the darkest of days but for those people who don't, all I can say is keep going: there are people out there who can help. Give them a go: https://www.rethink.org/help-in-your-area/support-groups/ https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/your-stories/online-support-groups-helped-me-when-no-one-else-was-there-for-me/ Don't be afraid to reach out and thanks for reading.

If my post was able to help one person, it would have all been worth it.

Feb 2023 Lens v Lille 

Newcastle v Sunderland, Newcastle V Middlesbrough, Portsmouth v Southampton, Whitley Bay v North Shields or West Allotment Celtic or Newcatle Benfield... I'd been to all the big derbies but had never had the chance to go to this one! 

Games between the two big teams from the northwest tip of France were just as ferocious as the above great encounters with a similar amount of needle so I was looking forward to a tasty spectacle. 

The two towns were barely 25 miles apart but their histories varied greatly. Lille, historically, was the home of the middle classes and a thriving textile industry while Lens was the working class, poorer relation filled with mines and their accompanying slag heaps; known as Terrills. therefore the rivalry wasn't that of two neighbouring towns but of different classes. When both industries faded then died, it was Lille who managed to recover quicker, turning themselves into a tourist destination and welcoming the service industry in the 1990s. Lens continued to struggle and it has only been since the Louvre Lens opened in 2012 that the town has finally been put on the map. 

After 26 years teaching in North Shields, I had decided to leave to set up my own gardening business. As a leaving gift, the staff raised £100 in Eurostar vouchers: presumably to get rid of me. Little did they realise they had given me enough to come back again!

There was only one match I wanted to spend my voucher on: Le Derby du Nord. An end to school commitments meant I was free to organise work around a mid-term trip. A bit like going out on a school night!

Super Pierre came up trumps and so my accomodation was sorted, I was to stay with him. The usual routine was followed... photo with Johnnie B...

... then it was off to the Eurostar. The lack of Eurostar availability on the Friday meant I was actually getting a cheeky extra night in France as I arrived on the Thursday night. Even though it was a school night, Pierre took me to a new eaterie and bar in the centre of Lens. Bearing in mind, the lack of options available for my vegetarian wife, Odessa to find food on our previous visits, this new bar could be a clincher in enticing her over!

The opening of L'Imbeertinence was another sign that Lens was on the up: a gastro-pub with big garden, own micro-brewery and great food. This was all I could want to entice the traumatised Odessa back to Lens after subjecting her to an unbearable MacDonalds Fillet-o'Fish, indescribable indian cuisine and a hotel that served as a homeless hostel. There had been successes - Le Jardin D'Arcadie and a very nice italian but the culinary successes had been limited. 

Another nice touch in L'Imbeertinence was the music wall... A tribute to the great and the good of modern rock music... it was crammed full of so many classic album covers: from blur to Nirvana to The Cure and on top of that, the music being piped out of the speakers reflected all the greats on display. It reminded me how similar the musical tastes could be in both Britain and France. It always amazed me how much respect there was here for British bands: yes there were really great French bands (dare I say Indochine?) but they could also enjoy music from outside of their borders.

Feeling refreshed, fed and watered we made our way back up the hill and the time to unveil Pierre's present: a thank you for his hospitality. A disciple of the classic football shirt, he was delighted with his 1997-8, Newcastle United shirt: a classic Adidas shirt worn in the 1998 FA Cup final. He was well chuffed, now all I had to do was manage to get him into St James' Park for a match. A feat just as difficult as getting into Stade Bollaert.

We are just two old men who love pouring over football shirts. There are those people who think footie shirts are just for children but to the connoisseurs there is a real majesty to some of the shirts produced in the 80s, 90s and beyond. Although in the push for even cheaper production costs, a lot of the modern day shirts look just that: cheap. Transfers used instead of embroidered team badges, printed sponsors logos instead of the classic 'fuzzy felt' ones of the past... footie shirts have become another example of a throw away fashion market that values nothing. Yes, we used to have clicks on our shirts after a while and at £20, the shirts were expensive in the 1980s but you had a shirt that you could take pride in. Maybe it was a false pride but it was our false pride! 

The Newcastle shirt I gave to Pierre had the classically sewn Adidas piping on the sleeves, embroidered Adidas logo and Newcastle club badge. this was finished beautifully by the 3d Newcastle Brown Ale badge: a disgusting drink in my opinion but still a symbol of a proud city. The fact that the company moved production to Gateshead then Cheshire disgusted the region but just showed the power of money and how greed had no interest in respecting tradition. Thankfully, for the time being, the Lens board of directors seem to be respecting the club's traditions.

The following day, I took the opportunity for a wander around the town and past the new addition to the Boulevard Basly: Grizzly Waffles. A Waffly Belgian experience that had sprung up since my last visit. It was great to see all these new ventures opening in the town as, just like my own town, Whitley Bay, the residents could definitely say they had been through some extremely tough times. 

Lens under construction...

The new swimming pool opposite Emotion Foot

There was the traditional climb up up Fosse 11-19, that looked down upon Loos-en-Gohelle, selfie at the top, with Stade in the background, and an attempt to take more 'arty' photos of the slagheaps than the previous few visits.

My first ever Derby du Nord started in a low key manner. It was an overcast, innocuous Spring morning and we were off for a drive into Loos-en-Gohelle. Although it was only 11 in the morning, I was a bit worried that we were heading away from the stadium. The sleepy village on the edge of Lens didn't seem to be the appropriate starting point for the most anticipated fixture in the region. But maybe that was the point... the calm before the storm?

The bar was filled with footie memorabilia, including a metal street sign for St James Park along with one for Highbury and a myriad of scarves and shirts. This was a football bar... just one that was preparing itself to decamp to Lens. 

The lads needed the time to catch up on the derby-day latest in Le Voix du Nord and then, probably more importantly, place the group bet, which proved to be easier said than done. The form itself had everyone bamboozled and both Yannick and Richard (new Lensfriend) had to ring up their 14 and 21 year-old sons to tell them how to fill it in.

Bet completed, Lens win predicted obviously, beer drunk, we headed back to Pierre's and then Lens centre. There was still not the expected fervour I had anticipated and it was another chilled walk down with quiet chatter, that I was mostly lost with. It is one of the hardest things I've known to follow a conversation in Ch'ti. Not only am I trying to understand the French, but also the regional dialect that sets these Northerners from the rest of their country. I would love to see the day when they had to reciprocate with a bunch of full-on Geordies.

Chez Muriel is always the first port of call and there was the added excitement of trying out one of the lads' enormous flags. 

Impressive Lens dungarees man got first go!

Pierre finds his vocation!

What better way could you prepare for a derby match than standing in the middle of the street waving a massive flag? Yet still, despite the presence of the massive erected flag, the atmosphere was subdued. Pascal arrived, I picked up my ticket for the game... everyone was the same. 

There was an absence of away fans since the Lille fans' progress had been greatly controlled to prevent them entering the town centre unsupervised. This contributed to the mood but it was only until I entered the turnstile that the penny dropped. It was tension. Pascal's hands were gripped tightly in two nervous fists and the fear of a negative outcome was everywhere. The break for the World Cup had affected Lens' form, winning only three out of ten games, compared to the winning streak of 5 consecutive victories beforehand. Added to that, Lens' only defeat of the season had come in the return fixture 0-1 (a missed Lens penalty in the first half combined with a successfully converted one at the other end). There was reason to be nervous. the local rivals had been a veritable bogey side before the delights of the previous season (three wins for Lens out of three). Nerves were everywhere. No wonder they had had to have the calming bar visit beforehand!

Pascal manages to put on a smile.

Once the teams emerged, the mood changed. Yellow and red flags combined around the Stade to make Sang et Or stripes and an enormous tifo dropped down from the Xerxes onto the Marek of a Lens gladiator beating a Lille Lion. The first half was a whirlwind as Lens stormed forward. Openda slammed his shot into the side netting before a freekick from local lad Fulgini was flicked over his keeper's head by Fonté. The ground went wild. The crowdsurfers flew up and down the terrace as the fans roared their delight. 

Openda's shot hit the side netting again in the second half and Fofana blazed one high and wide.

However, try as they might, Lens were finding it harder to keep their forward momentum going. Then, it happened. Brice Samba worked miracles to keep out two successive efforts before the ball dropped at his left hand post and sadly Lille's Jonathan David was there to slide home. 

With the scores level, Pascal's only recently unfurled fists were tightly clenched again and the ground's wave of optimism was swept away. Twice Samba was called to pull out top draw saves as the Capos in the various Kops urged the fans to rise to the challenge; with mixed success. Finally, the referee blew the final whistle and a collective sigh of relief was blown. The only consolation was that the band of Lille fans would be disappointed they hadn't won. 

Around Stade Bollaert the signs of enormous investment in the town are everywhere... the skatepark  the first completed, then it was the swimming pool and now a cinema and who knows what other outlets are on the way. Each new building site is hidden away by the metal walls bordering our path as we headed back to Chez Muriel. The town had changed but the people hadn't. Relief was everywhere... you could taste it. Pascal had managed to relax now; the ordeal was over. The Derby du Nord hadn't quite been what I had expected but I felt so glad I had had a chance to be a part of it. Maybe I had been hoping for a party that never materialised.

The next morning, I stood on a chilly Loos en Gohelle platform, waiting for the train to take me to Lens then to Lille and the Eurostar. The cold March wind whipped across the pre-dawn platform. A lone commuter wandered onto the platform, ignoring my selfie-attempts. Had he been at the match? As always the people had been amazing, Pierre, Yannick, Pascal, Richard... friends who had shared my first Derby du Nord with me. We had come through it intact but without Brice's saves, things could have been a lot worse.

 April 2023 Lens v  Strasbourg

The Boy Mark hadn't been to a Lens game since 2018... five years without a fix of French Footie / fricadelle and alcohol. For some, namely me, it would have been too much! But no, wor Markie battled through day by day, hour by hour. Wiping the tears back manfully (or womanfully... don't wish to be sexist) as he strove through the challenges thrown at him. Now a headteacher of a school in Northumberland, he had gone up in the world leaving myself, a lowly teacher, to bathe in his educational glory. This journey also featured new boy Matt's first visit. Matt had once lived in Ch'ti-Land as a student and fallen in love with Les Sang et Or. Work and family commitments ever since had meant he hadn't returned to Stade-Bollaert-Delesis. A regular on the RC Lens UK Division's facebook group discussions, I had worn him down with constant barracking and abuse about not going until he final gave in and agreed to join us. His children were old enough not to give a monkeys if he was there or not and his wife was probably glad of the peace and quiet. 

So it was that we set out on an overcast, with rare glimpses of blue sky, Tyneside morning to meet Matt at St Pancras.

The rituals were observed when we met at St Pancras: MacDonalds (for cheapness and ease) then a visit to see Johnnie B and the essential photo: 

Matt seemed to be extremely excited on his first trip back to his former stomping ground while I have since decided that fiddling with John B's waistcoat buttons wasn't the desired effect I was after.

There was the sight of one of the French female footie teams swarming off the Eurostar in their matching tracksuits and luggage. They streamed past; a never-ending blue convoy. Sadly there was no Wendy Renard or Eugenie Le Sommer to photograph but, by heck, there was a lot of them!

Every time I decide to hire a car at Lille, I forget how slow the traffic getting out of town is and so, true to tradition we crawled our way towards Lens: part of Lille rush hour's metallic slug . Its never easy navigating your way out of Lille's chaotic peripherique (to me anyway) but finally we were free of Dogue City's clasping claws. 

Although we arrived at Pierre's with time to spare, it was still a rush down the hill to get our tickets... there was only time for the briefest trip to Chez Muriel. Pierre was nowhere to be seen! 

I never tire of this view or walk.

We did, however manage to bag oursleves a Pascal creature and Jean-Claude Van Spamme (Kev from Watford, our interpreter friend from Belgium who speaks French with a mix of a Berkshire and Belgique accent). Tickets acquired it was into the Marek for another photo opportunity.

With Yannick and Pascal this time... 

but where's Kev?

 (Like Where's Wally)

 

I really don't think Matt stopped smiling the whole time we were in Lens. The prodigal son had returned... wearing his 90s vintage Lens shirt (which greatly impressed Pierre).

We finally found Pierre... always carrying a big flag!

Just 11 minutes in, Frankowski was found by Thomasson and he guided a curler into the far post. Matt's smile broadened. All around him were dazzled by its brightness. He could have been seen from space (maybe). This was Mark's first visit since an extremely drab 1-1 Ligue 2 draw against Nancy in 2018 and yes, Lens were a completely changed team, but he couldn't believe how the town, the stadium's surroundings and the supporters had changed since then. The fans were back in love with the team, the team loved the fans: they were pushing each other towards a greatness that had seemed impossible five years earlier.

 In the second half there was double delight and doubled up Matt-smily time! A Sotoca cross was headed clear, but only as far as the lurking Medina, on the edge of the penalty area. The cheeky Argentine's volley slipped in between keeper Matt Sel's frantic fingers and post. Medina's smile was every bit as wide as Matt's as he wheeled away in triumph. The crowdsurfers swam past us on both sides as the Capos roared the fans to greater sonic achievements. 

We were all revelling in this performance!

The party was brought to a sudden halt when Kevin Gameiro curled a beautiful shot outisde of Samba's stretch. We sobered up immediately. This wasn't over. Suddenly, the team above the relegation zone on goal difference was back in it. In stoppage time, we held our breaths as the ball pinged about the Lens box, Danso launched his foot at the ball, clearing it before taking down a Strasbourg player, "penalty" they all screamed. Matt's smile began to waver. The ref quickly consulted VAR: no penalty. Strasbourg's Habib Diallo made his feelings know and was booked. Unfortunately for him, he didn't take the hint and a second yellow card swiftly followed and he was off. The final whistle blew soon after: was had survived and Mark could notch another win to his bedpost. Matt's smile grew so much that it interferered with orbiting satellites. 

It remained throughout the evening.

And I got to meet, but not eat, a giant fricadelle!

Our evening finished in fine style in La Loco, although, once again we were too late for chips to go with our Croc Monsieurs (although there was a pile left over that had been reserved for the first aiders from the Stade). But Matt's smile continued... we could still see the glow under his bedroom door in the middle of the night. Sadly, it interfered with my sleep patterns. All in a good cause though!

The rest of the weekend saw us 'enjoy' a couple of Belgian 0-0 draws. First there was relegation bore draw between Kortrijk and Eupen: the highlights of which involved seeing a big bunny, piling plastic cups in Kortrijk Kim's hood and visiting Hellend Vlak.

The hood was asking to be filled!

I think it's a bunny...

We've been to Hellend Vlak!

The following day was the slightly more entertaining Anderlecht v Westerlos. The away support was very vocal and it was entertaining to see the after-effects of a visit from Union Berlin (sticker-tastic). Beyond that it was a bit drab. Around the stadium, the streets were vibrant with some interesting artwork and strangely placed outdoor urinals. My choice of a red Inspiral carpets bucket hat and yellow jacket clashed somewhat with the purple clad Anderlecht fans. Hey ho!

Artwork outside a ground is largely ignored.

I don't think Red and yellow clash with anything, 

and neither does Mark. Although he's colour blind.

Stickertastic Berlin visit.

Odessa would have proud... sort of.

Piss in the open, you only piss in the open ....?

Our visit finished on the Sunday night with a visit to the site of the former Formula 1 Inn from our previous visits. It had been replaced by a big retail park... cinema, gastropubs, shops... and not a dodgy  shared shower / toilet amongst them. 

Final round of drinks, I think I won with my milkshake!