— 18 Jul 2013, 15:42 by Maison Claire Fontaine
Circus skills and French games, mosaic making and three course meals aplenty. The rain has arrived but it hasn't dampened the boys' spirits. More storms on the way, please could someone send over some Herefordshire sunshine asap!
Boys are still sound asleep, the reveil to be sounded in 10 mins as I write this. The peace and tranquility soon to be shattered as 27 boys accelerate from a bleary-eyed standing start to a 100 mph dash to the swings, table tennis tables, football etc. while we teachers hug our cup of coffee, uncertain where this energy comes from. By the time the breakfast gong it rung, Miss Gallagher will be on her third change of outfit, each more glamorous than the last. Mrs Edmunds will be ruminating over her hair tongs, wondering where the nightlife is in this sleepy village. Valda will be slapping on sun tan lotion, despite the fact that it has rained all night and today isn't looking too bright, though the forecast might be showing signs of life. As for moi, I am just praying that England reach 350+ by lunch and Anderson can skittle the Aussies for under 250, give us a good first innings lead and then build on that before Swann exploits a cracking fifth day wicket, and - oh - yes, ignore that, of course my attentions are entirely on the boys, bless their cotton socks.
Lunch and dinner are 3 course banquets and this year they take turns presenting (in French, mercy me) what they have to eat. Everyone takes part. My favourite last night was the beautiful distribution of lines. One kind soul in B6D whose name will be kept secret to protect his identity (but it is a colour and rhymes with farm yard animal) ran off a five minute spiel as though fresh from the pages of a Michelin starred menu, employing imperfect subjunctives all in fluent sixteenth century Alexandrines. Another anonymous boy (surname is someone who digs and plants flowers) thought long and hard before reeling off a solitary 'Miam miam'. Not sure which one I most admire! Mrs Edmunds is trying to persuade chef to serve her just a petite salade for lunch but after twelve years here I know for a fact that his mission is to double our weight, so now we are all just trying to tempt each other with exta portions in a totally non-supportive way.
Malcolm, our wonderful driver, is going to sit us either side of the aisle on the way home so the coach doesn't collapse.
It is 'Go Ape' this afternoon ('Allez Singe'), one of the highlights. We are praying the weather holds out.
This blog is reaching an end as a cup of coffee is heading my way. You won't believe this, but I have just seen Daisy for the second time this morning and I swear she is wearing a different dress. On that bombshell...
It is now midday, lunch beckons. To limber up for another hearty meal, we left the boys cooking pudding and learning about French cakes and sweets and allowed Mrs Edmunds and Miss Gallagher loose on the local Avallon shops. By the end of an hour, at least a dozen fashion boutiques had made so much money that they pulled down their blinds and were last seen on the way to the airport clutching tickets for a 5 star break in Hawaii. It may mean we have to leave one or two boys behind to fit their bags of clothes, but we will try and make do and mend.
The sun is well and truly out and everyone is very happy apart from me as England are now 9 wickets down for 314. Hopeless.
There are have been many great episodes during French Trips over the years. Some delicious meals for example, some wonderful boys, some hysterical moments. But surely nothing can match today's superb news.
Yes, Graeme Swann took five wickets at Lord's to help dismiss the Aussies for just 128. Rejoice!
Tragically, we missed the ball by ball progress of our great national team as we were off in the woods, watching the boys swing Tarzan-like from tree to tree. I know one or two of you were nervous about this activity and I can safely report, after a long time counting, that 108 limbs went out and 108 limbs came back in again, all in tip-top shape. More good news! In fact, the boys were just superb, even Year 4s dashing about 50 feet in the air, as though to the manor born. No one cried, no one had to come down, no one had any trouble at all, truth be told, a Lockers first for this event. You all would have been proud of your sons. Not as proud as Graeme Swann's mummy, perhaps, but proud nonetheless. As we await our next feast, Mrs Edmunds and Miss Gallagher are sunbathing outside, the boys are merrily playing on the swings, kicking a football, chasing snails and pulling off frogs' legs for supper. An idyllic picture of childhood joy.
Miss Gallagher is not entirely focused on her sunbathing, I hasten to add, half an eye is on The Open as it turns out she has several players backed in some sweep-stake or other. I am not entirely convinced she even knows what sport Ernie Els and Lee Westward are actually playing, but it is lovely to see her so happy.
Boules tonight after supper. Results will be announced soon after.
9 pm, now some important news.
Earlier today, a certain anonymous blonde drama teacher purchased several bars of chocolate and I made sure that a delicious Nestle Crunch was in the pile as a small bonus for all my hard work. I had one small square in the coach home, but, hold on to your hats, you won't believe this, when I went to have another square just a moment ago the bar was gone! Not a crumb left. Honestly, I am not the one to point fingers but I note with interest that a certain teacher, alluded to a sentence or two ago, didn't seem to have much appetite for supper. That is all I shall say on the matter. I don't bear grudges.
I suppose one or two of you might want to know what the boys are actually doing. Well, even more excitement here, as the annual boules tournament was played and the results are in! After the qualifying heats and semi-finals, two Williams battled it out for glory. Jack had the guile, Gardener had the style. It was a humdinger of a match. Local villagers huddled round, clutching their glass of Anise. Neighbouring girls swooned as they saw their new beaus in action. A local passing news team screeched to a halt when they saw the thrill etched on the faces of the enthralled crowd and cameras were hurriedly erected. In the first round, Jack threw down a pinpoint accurate boule to notch the first point in the first to three. Gardener retaliated with a long spinning throw that drew him level, but in a moment of tactical madness declined the opportunity to push the advantage home. In round three, disaster truly struck as with his final ball, Gardener nudged Jack's boule closest to the 'cochon' and Jack had triumphed. There was pandemonium. Little Claudine from across the road threw herself into the river in tormented anguish, the cup engravers set to work and Canal Plus were offering millions to the victor for exclusive interview rights. I tried to gain their attention with a genuine news scoop involving some stolen chocolate, but they weren't biting.
Soon to bed. I must say, I hope something is done about the bird outside my room that makes 'whoop' noises all night, sort of a cross between a dripping tap and a cuckoo. All night it went on. I stuffed my ipod earphones in and turned on my soothing whale music, but each time I woke up and checked the state of play, all I get was a loud 'whoop' and it was back to the whales. I have asked the MCF to shoot this monster, but they won't have it. What was the point of Waterloo and Agincourt if they can't even extend this small courtesy.
