'Fred was a comedy of errors' but loves the RWC 1987 final in Jarnac

Overnighting in Chinon

The fall into the Charente River did leave Fred with cracked ribs and a lot of discomfort!

He stoically continued the holiday though, managing the boat, navigating the locks, cycling, canoeing, climbing trees for cherries and more importantly finding pubs to watch rugby, it was June and the first Rugby World Cup was underway.

He watched the 1987 RWC Final on the 20 June in Jarnac in the southwest of France. He had meet some  'new' rugby mates at a bar, and they invited him to join them at the Courvoisier head office to watch the game.

France was beaten by New Zealand.

The event was such a highlight for Fred, I stayed on the boat with the littley's and he went off to watch the rugby.

He still talks about the game, being with a French crowd, all the hype and excitement but ultimately their team was beaten by the New Zealand All Blacks, 29-9.

I remember too, he was hoarse from all the yelling, rather hang-over but he just bubbled with rugby stories. He still avidly follows the RWC, we travelled to New Zealand in 2011 to watch rugby and he is already anticipating and talking about the RWC this year in the UK.




A little bit of history:

"Although international rugby has been played for well over a century, the Rugby World Cup is a relatively recent phenomenon. The first tournament took place in May and June 1987, with games played in both New Zealand and Australia. The final was held at Eden Park, Auckland, on 20 June, where the home team beat France to become the inaugural holders of the Webb Ellis Cup."

Gentle memories of kisses and singing

“To the soul, memory is more important than planning, art more compelling than reason, and love more fulfilling than understanding.” 
― Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life

This quote has me reflecting on the nature of my memory, an unease that memory is more important than planning. My future orientation has affected some of my memories and I am being made even more aware of it in this letter memory blogging. 

What I love about this extract from one of my letters to Mom is the simplicity. I am pleased with my weight loss and have just had lunch with Fred near his office. 

And I can feel my pleasure in being a mother. Barry's kisses which are 'a big open-mouthed 'ahh'', I tell Mom how he enjoys walking along the furniture.

Shawni is singing. I am proud to tell Mom that Shawni likes to sing English nursery rhymes and that she sings in French too, 'Alouette' and 'Claire de la Lune' and 'at night she hums tunes to herself'.  

She is so like her father, they sing and surround themselves with music. Such gentle memories.

Deja 1 An, Barry has his first birthday in France

We celebrated Barry's birthday on Saturday, a brunch and I looked at this man at the table and smiled to myself how the years have crept up on all of us, everything has changed and nothing has changed.

Today, 28 years ago, I wrote this letter from St. Germain-en-Laye to my family in Howick. 'Well Barry's birthday is just upon us'.

I am delighted to read about his party or 'little do' and just love how I baked decadent Austrian coffee cakes, if I am not mistaken this was a recipe from Lee. Something else I should go hunting for. The birthday favours sound fun too, 'I'll be making each kid a 'train'. Bought rectangular cakes and biscuits and sweet to make them'. With my inadequate sketching ability I did an illustration for Mom.

I wonder at what point I no longer considered myself a baker?

The summerhouse was decorated for the birthday tea, in my photo album I made for Barry I wrote 'no photos, 'cause Mom's camera was not working'.

The few photos I do have are so lovely.
And as predicted in my letter, Shawni is on the Fisher-Price Explorer, the car we bought Barry and  it looks like she is loving it.

'Deja 1 an', Barry has a birthday in Paris.

Postscript:

I found my recipe for the Austrian Coffee Cake.

So will find an occasion to make it again.

'We had lots of fun on the beaches'

Family time on the Normandy beaches

My card starts with 'Isn't it spectacular!'

I was very taken with Mont St Michel, it left an impression on me, the experience of the tide rising through the sand is remarkable, the steep narrow roads of the medieval village and the imposing cathedral.

And as written by de Maupassant.....


Legend of Mont St. Michel

by  Guy de Maupassant 
(1850-1893)

Translators: Albert M.C. McMaster, A.E. Henderson, Mme. Quesada, & others.

---

I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the sea. I got an indistinct impression of it as of a gray shadow outlined against the misty sky. I saw it again from Avranches at sunset. The immense stretch of sand was red, the horizon was red, the whole boundless bay was red. The rocky castle rising out there in the distance like a weird, seignorial residence, like a dream palace, strange and beautiful-this alone remained black in the crimson light of the dying day.

The following morning at dawn I went toward it across the sands, my eyes fastened on this, gigantic jewel, as big as a mountain, cut like a cameo, and as dainty as lace. The nearer I approached the greater my admiration grew, for nothing in the world could be more wonderful or more perfect.

Looking at the post stamp from the rather souless Marly-le Roi Grandes Terres, brings back so many memories, having a coffee, going to the Post Office for in and outgoing mail and those horses, Les Chevaux de Marly, we would walk past these monumental horse statues in the park near the house.

Janet's visit to Paris gets me thinking about my parenting

I was chatting to a mature mother recently with a two year old daughter and it struck me when she said she loves her confident, feisty child with her independent streak.

I was not a young mother, already in my early thirties yet when I read my letters from the these years in France, I am painfully aware of my naiveté and that I could have parented in a different way.

I should have taken more pleasure in Shawni's 'joie de vivre' and been more in touch with her independent streak, her alertness and strength of character. Rather I seem to do a lot of whining to my mother, talking about Shawni 'going through a difficult phase again'. During Jan's visit with Lexi in May 1987, I write pompously that 'they do not understand the concept of sharing'.

Looking back I do realise that this phase in my life was challenging and my escape was into planning, into travel, with a cafe au lait and a pen in my hand. As I still do, but as I matured I coped a little better and managed some of my blind-spots when it came to my parenting skills.

Janet and I enjoyed our times together when she visited from Germany. I see from my letter that we did a guided tour around the Cafe Procope, the oldest cafe in Paris and some shopping too. The shirt that I mention is now in my quilting stash, it has been cut up and used in a quilt I am making at the moment.

Special times in France

A postcard from Etretat

Étretat is a commune in the Seine-Maritime department in the Haute-Normandie region in north-western France.

A postcard to South Africa from Etretat. 9 May 1987.

This part of the French coastline was spectacular and we walked the cliff edge and the beach at Etretat. 

A close look at the photo below has Fred in the righthand foreground as the 'pack-horse' on the beach, he carried Barry in the backpack and used to carry Shawni too when she got tired, which was often.

Kersten family visiting Etretat.

A little Normandy magic

As much as I remember my first experience of the Ile Flottante for desert, I have no recall of this little magic intervention for Barry. Makes me wonder on a whole lot of levels.

My photo album record for the Robert the Devils Castle.