Allez Agen, Allez Agen…

Les Agenais ont gagné!!! Finally, I’ve seen Agen win, and it was completely out of the blue. The visit to the stadium, not the victory, that was a bit of procession. Just how Agen managed to lose the reverse fixture against Bucharest the week before I will never know. This time, at home, they were comfortable 39-9 winners in the driving rain. But I’ll backtrack a few hours. Seeing as it was to be my last weekend in France before returning home for good old Noël, I thought I’d better head to Agen to buy a few cadeaux to take home (the selection in Fumel was somewhat limited). So after a fairly successful shopping trip by my standards (meaning I actually bought something) I treated myself to a Crêpe Bonbon in the Crêperie on Place des Laitiers, opposite Café de la Bourse. Not exactly a traditional crepe, and slightly sickly, but it plugged a hole.

Crêpe Bonbon 

Anyway, whilst in a shop, which for certain reasons I cannot name, we noticed a poster for an Agen match that afternoon, with tickets only €10. Our thought process was fairly simple. It would be our last opportunity to get to see them for a while, they’d probably beat Bucharest, we were gutted to miss the visit of the Galacticos of Toulon (two days after I leave) and we had absolutely nothing else to do this particular Friday night, tragic I know. So after killing some time with an extremely enjoyable dégustation of some produits régionaux, we headed to Stade Alfred Armandie in the drizzle, steered ourselves past the touts and into the sheltered stand, which for tonight was general admittance, meaning we could choose wherever we wanted to sit, which obviously was bang on half way a few rows back. The first half was, to be blunt, dire. One try for Agen and a few penalties apiece, 13-6. After a half-time portion of chips, we retook our seats and watched as SU Agen tore Bucharest apart with some fantastic running rugby, given the torrid conditions. The second half had everything we could’ve wanted from 40 minutes of rugby; yellow cards, dodgy refereeing decisions, handbags and plenty of crunching tackles. All in all, 100% worth the €10 and the 20 minute walk in the rain. 

No takers for the uncovered stand

All that remained was a fairly eventful return to Fumel, via Villeneuve to drop off my friend. As we sat at traffic lights in central Agen, we noticed that the lights had turned green but the car in front of us wasn’t budging, and judging by the drivers frantic hand signals, he’d broken down and we should go round him. Easier said than done. Cars were whizzing past us, the car behind was nestled on my rear bumper so couldn’t see I was in reverse and indicating, so wasn’t budging. Masses of hooting ensued, as expected. The driver in distress eventually got out of his car, via the passenger door and approached my window to explain he’d broken down and I should go round. Obviously we offered to push him to one side so he could get to safety and we could get home. His reaction was a mixture of shock and delight, as if never I a million years was he expecting sympathy or help. So leaving my car running, hazard lights on, unlocked, we got out into the pouring rain and shoved him off the road until we saw a thumbs up protrude from the window. Racing back to the car feeling fairly good about ourselves, we realised that in the meantime everyone else hade tried to get round us, only to be foiled by the lights, and now there was an absolute kerfuffle to get everything back to normal. Eventually we got out of Agen and on the road. If you’ve seen Withnail & I, my journey home resembled the pair’s experiences driving at night in the countryside, driving rain, windscreen wipers that weren’t fully functioning and therefore limited visibility. I was crouched over the wheel as if I was trying to lick the dashboard. The combination of fog, rain, fatigue and French drivers was not ideal. Somehow we made it home safe and sound. Twas a successful day for numerous reasons; the shopping, the crepe and the rugby. Next up, the Villeneuve Christmas market.