It’s past 9pm when I catch up with Lizbeth and some friends in a bar, in the district of Cours Julien. I rushed from rugby to be on time, so I didn’t take my shower, I’m muddy and stinky when I pass the pub’s door.
I twist and turn in my seat, the stagnant plane air working its way in and out of my lungs as I try and find a vision of peace in my mind. It’s been 27 hours of flying and my eyes snap open as soon as the pilot tells us we’re about to start our descent into Marseille.
There’s a lot of things cooking up at the moment. Lisa and I are heading to London from the 13th of February for a week and then after that, I will be travelling to Perth, Western Australia for nearly three weeks to see my parents. It’s been a year since I last saw them, waving … Read moreThe French Diaries: Part 17 “The Worst Captain since Captain Ron!”