I came cross my old fencing jacket in our other gaff recently. Purchased with my father something like 35 years ago at Leon Paul in London.
There was a time not so long ago when my wife used to regularly berate me for some of the things I decided not to ship over here, but I remain constantly amazed at how much stuff did eventually make the journey. Much of it is still in the boxes into which it was expertly packed by the team from Wales.
My old electric foil has been floating around quite visibly over there for years, but I hadn't seen the jacket since it left UK shores.
This clip shows a home match at St Pauls’s versus the old enemy, Westminster, eight years ago.
The facilities at SPS have always been amongst the very best, and yet have remained largely unchanged since the late 60s.
V and I were reminiscing about the sport earlier on this week. She was Guatemalan national champion and so a good deal better at it than me.
The girl she defeated in the final — from the capital — apparently took it very badly and required constant comforting from her boyfriend during the subsequent media event.
We both specialised in Foil and dabbled in Sabre. I did cricket, rugby, swimming, scuba, tennis, squash and volleyball during my years at SPS, but there was nothing more physically demanding than Sabre.
I am sure it made a lasting difference to my thighs — I guess you sort of need a Diego Maradona-style physique ideally for this discipline — but I gave it up in the end because I kept being overwhelmed by larger guys with more inherently explosive personalities.
It strikes me that the modern gear is a little bit more protective and in some important ways safer. We both remember the bruises very well.
I never got to fight inside the school...