Boules And Birthday

Second Boules Tournament

The second boules tournament duly took place last Sunday. The weather decided to play ball (sic) and friend Steve commented that it was much more pleasant in the 20+ degrees of the afternoon than it had been on the previous very hot occasion. This time around there were only 24 participants, half the previous number, but that was to be expected. Once again everybody seemed to enjoy the occasion, so it was another success. But................one unforeseen embarrassment occurred. The two highest scorers were given a gift box of three bottles of wine and the highest scorer as it turned out was Driss: a Moroccan moslem who didn't drink. We'll have to think of an alternative next year, although Idris graciously refused to be offended. The other slight inconvenience I noticed was that Daniel was once again messing around with various bits of paper to note down the scores and points attributable. I'm not sure what is required to get them to use my template but I'll have to think of it before next year.

The tournament was preceded by a lunch for the organisers and members of the Amities Mollanaise committee, about fifteen of us in all. Anne-Marie of the Amities Mollanaise held the lunch at her house, which also happens to be the wholesale fruit depot which her husband runs. She decided to have the lunch in one of the sheds where lorries arrive to unload fruit. Not the most elegant of venues then but the food was great: steaming boules of mussels and chips followed by cheese and three desserts. (Bringing a dessert when you're invited for lunch is traditional, as I think I've mentioned before; I brought a bottle of red wine to have with the cheese.) The location reminded me of the wedding of my late French friend Claude, when the lunch (not the wedding "breakfast", which was in the evening) was in the unloading bay of his wife's parents' shop. Typically French: bugger the decor, focus on the food. I must admit it tallies well with my own priorities. I remember a number of English restaurants where one was obviously paying for the decor rather than the food, much to my disappointment.

Birthday Celebration

I decided to put some bottles of fizz (Clairette de Die) behind the bar at the pizza evening this week to celebrate my birthday on Friday. It turns out I should have done it on the following Monday. As I was enlightened, the French never celebrate birthdays before the event, only at the event or afterwards. I suppose this is logical but it also carries a slightly disturbing (French realism?) connotation at my age: if your birthday hasn't already happened, how do you know you are going to get that far? Anyway, that didn't stop the Clairette getting drunk. Friend Jo very kindly brought some nibbles to eat with the wine as an aperitif and made a birthday cake and also a plate of crispy chocolate flan. The latter got rave reviews from the French who wanted to know if it was an English speciality. Of course I claimed it was; we don't get that many plaudits for our cuisine from the French that I was going to pass up the chance of one. And Roberto refused to accept payment for my pizza (actually a plate of lasagna, which he had as an alternative that evening) and that touched me.

The final advance celebration was that I decided I would treat myself to a very expensive set of professional boules as a birthday present. They are lighter than the ones I normally use (690 as against 730 grams) and made of a softer material. I need something like them if I am ever going to learn to shoot better. The lighter weight makes shooting easier and the softer material reduces the rebound when another boule is hit, increasing the probability that you'll stay somewhere around the cosh. I bought them today and decided to see how I could play with them this afternoon. As it turned out I slaughtered everybody playing so they are worth the money and I am happy with them.