Another weekend, and another trip to Toulon. I'm talking about last weekend, not this one. Friday afternoon, The Husband and I headed down south, picked up my cousin, Mrs. London, and went to dinner.
Whenever I'm in this part of France, the Côte d'Azur, on a port, surrounded by palm trees and looking out at the Mediterranean and boats of all sizes bobbing on it, it feels like I'm on holiday even if I'm only two hours from The LPV. But alas, a night sipping Mojitos while staring out to sea was not in the cards. Mr. London was playing in a very important match against those boys in pink, Stade Français, and it was our duty to cheer him on.
And guess what? Our cheering clearly works because Mr. London scored a try within the first few minutes of the match. He's a quick one that Mr. London. What to do but celebrate the try and the win, right? So that's what we did.
First with a few drinks outside the stadium so Mr. London could mingle with the other players and some fans and pose for photos (and a couple more Mojitos for me and Mrs. London), and then on to a nightclub.
I guess that The Husband and Mr. London worked up quite an appetite dancing because when they went missing for a bit, Mrs. London and I found them in snack shack across the street, behind the counter, making the sandwiches themselves. I guess the snack guy was happy for the break. And for the record, Mr. London and The Husband didn't bother making any sandwiches for us. Thanks guys.
The Husband and Mr. London being mischievous little monkeys, jumping behind that snack shack counter, pretty much set the theme for the weekend... the two of them getting up to no good.
Like when Mrs. London and I spent a nice afternoon on Saturday having a leisurely lunch and sipping Rosé, our two mischievous monkeys setup camp in the bar next door with a handful of other rugby players (including a couple of the boys in pink). We popped into check on them at one point and where did we spot Mr. London... behind the bar serving drinks.
And when Mrs. London and I had a nice leisurely dinner with some more Rosé (are you noticing our own theme here?), the boys had once again setup camp in the bar next door. We stopped in to say hi (re: check on them) and there was Mr. London... behind the bar serving drinks (I was beginning to wonder if he had a part-time job there).
Then, later that night at a club, while Mrs. London and I continued our day of Rosé, while we shaked our groove things in our six-inchers (we always seem to be the tallest girls in nightclubs here), The Husband pointed out Mr. London to us. Yes, Mr. London had found another bar to play Cocktail at. Oh what a surprise.
On the drive home back to Le Petit Village, The Husband turned to me ever so seriously and said that he knows what Mr. London should do when he retires from rugby. I looked over at him and he said, "work behind a bar".
Gee... ya think?