June 1991 – Angela Main
That London to Paris thing…
It was the word “Paris” that did it! Putting the name of that city with all its cultural, culinary and romantic associations fooled six otherwise sane individuals into entering the gruelling London to Paris Triathlon.
The 87 mile run, 21 mile swim and 180 mile cycle split between the team, seemed but a small price to pay for a night out in Gay Paris. Not to mention the rewards of physical achievement and raising money for a worthwhile cause – the Marrow Environment Fund.
God could not have been more random in his selection of the foolhardy team “chosen” to defend the honour and reputation of Masons Solicitors and Queens Privy Councillors. Drawn from all ranks the team was a fair representation of the paralegals, article clerks, client computer services and solicitors – with a partner, albeit brand new, thrown in for good measure (though nearly thrown out by the end of the trip!).
Brian Clark, Angela Main, Nicholas Zuraw, Anthony Smith, Peter Turner and Graham Thompson did not know each other particularly well before the triathlon, now they could all probably make a comfortable living out of blackmail. But in true team spirit they have vowed and declared not to disclose any damaging evidence other than that which appears in this article…….
On the road
Friday dawned bright and clear – or so one would be lead to believe by the appearance of the Masons’ team sporting heavily tinted dark glasses. They looked a little conspicuous among the fine physical specimens already limbering up for the first leg of the run on a rather overcast day. Brian and Graham were already squabbling over whose idea it had been to have those pre-triathlon drinks – some macho Australian custom designed to intimidate the other teams no doubt.
A sharp whistle blast silenced them temporarily as the first runners set off. Anthony tactfully turned to Nic, who had arrived with two minutes to spare, to remind him he was actually running that leg. “Really”, he exclaimed incredulously, throwing his bag at Brian and tying up his shoe laces in a series of contorted movements that we tried to pass off as warming up exercises to the other teams. “Which way did they go?”
Driving Debut
Youth being on his side he soon caught them up. The rest of the team went to the allocated mini buses or coaches and set off to their starting points. Angela took the wheel of the Masons mini bus – with Laurie Brown’s (the Mason’s Facilities manager) worried instructions ringing in her ears, Brian looked on nervously from the passenger seat and Anthony breathing down her neck, she promptly put the bus into second gear and mounted kerb.
However, this ignominious debut was soon overshadowed by Brian’s performance as navigator. By the end of the trip we knew to gag him the moment he suggested a shortcut, but initially we innocently followed his deviations from the official route and accepted his protestations that the road never used to be one way, dead end or lead to that road. A stock of 200 mars bars and a similar amount of bananas was found in the back and soon became the solution to any crisis – “here have a mars bar”.
Going Swimmingly
The team all turned in good performances on the run and started psyching-up for the afternoon swim at Dover. The rain, white horses and freezing temperature did not do much for morale, but the team wo/manly shrugged off these minor considerations and took to the water.
Angela was first out of the water and had the dubious honour of being interviewed by local radio (where of course she made use of the opportunity to promote Masons’ services). Nic whispering under his breathe that he only learnt to swim 6 weeks ago, which led to another groan from Brian (he was getting rather good at this). Graham had been entered as the team racer and he came a very creditable 4th.
Passports, Pourquoi?
When it was time to catch the ferry to Calais, the Masons’ team showed its real belief in the unification of the EC – to the extent of trying to travel minus three passports! Nic was the first to own up that he had forgotten something very important and it started with P. Brian let a barely audible groan but did not verbalise his thoughts.
To reassure him that the rest of the team weren’t such numbskulls, Angela reached into her bag and pulled out her expired New Zealand passport with “Cancelled” stamped very redly over it. Eyes slightly popping by this stage, Brian still restricted himself to a very mild “oh really, you two…”.
He was soon to be very thankful for his restraint as a flurried five minutes search failed to locate his own passport which he repeatedly told us he had packed just that morning… Time for another mars bar!
Bluff was decided upon as the best approach as the Passport Control barrier loomed. Waving as many passports as she could muster, Angela looked levelly into the official’s eyes. “All British” he asked. “Of course”, she replied in her best New Zealand accent and putting her foot on the accelerator at the same time.
Enfin, France…
Accommodation at the hotel just out of Calais was segregated, so imagine the excitement of the male component of the Masons’ team upon finding a woman showering in their apartment. Not to mention the subsequent fight over the towel she had used.
Equanimity restored, the team set out with the rest of the competitors for the restaurant 3km down the road – Angela thankfully relinquishing the driving responsibility to Brian who was vowing to never again listen to Graham’s theories on how alcohol improves athletic performance.
During the meal Brian resolutely turned his attention to the woman on his left and Graham found a new convert in Peter Turner. At the midnight hour Brian announced the departure of the Masons’ mini bus – however, felling a little euphoric after the day’s successes Graham, Angela, Nic and Anthony decided to walk home via the beach.
Midnight Bathe
This is where four different versions of the events that followed emerge… But what is generally agreed upon is that Nic and Angela, powerless to defy a recently made partner’s order (for fear of losing their jobs), followed him under extreme duress into the ocean.
Feigning enjoyment they splashed around and caught a few waves until Graham relented half an hour later and led the way back to the shore – but not back to Anthony who was heroically guarding the shoes and bits and pieces. You think an Australian would know about such things like currents and under tows, wouldn’t you?
A systematic search finally located Anthony who had possibly never been greeted with such enthusiasm in his life. Looking a little worse for wear, they jogged the remaining kilometre back to the hotel. Once back Graham took some photographs for his blackmail collection and joined another team to play an interesting game called pass the credit card which seemed to involve a lot of lip contact – he is suggesting it should be added to the list of events at the firm’s sports day.
Cycle or swim
Back into serious mode on Saturday as the team faced an 180km cycle in a torrential downpour. Nic, not knowing how to swim, decided to set off early. The rest followed as soon as they had assembled cycles, donned on wet weather gear and gritted their teeth.
Several hours and nine inches of rain later the team made it to the lay-by 50km from Paris – but not without mishap. Graham had a puncture, Nic suffered a bout of cramp and Brian added an extra 20km to his route and had a bruising brush with the wing mirror of a French car whose driver had a little trouble judging distances. For the first time those mars bars tasted really good!
Despite countless examples of his creative navigating, Brian managed to slip unchecked into the passenger seat of the mini bus yet again. Angela’s driving too seemed to take on some of the characteristics of her French counterparts. Nevertheless the hotel on the outskirts of Paris was duly reached early Saturday evening and rooms assigned – no women in the shower this time.
On the town
A realistic meeting up time was decided upon – 8am the next morning, and everyone went their own different ways for the Parisian Experience. Around the breakfast table the next morning some had more to tell than others – Brian, Peter and Graham’s belongings had been stolen from the hotel room while Brian and Peter slept, Nic and Angela found themselves in the middle of a riot at Bastille – hooligans on one side and tear gas throwing police on the other, and Graham did not find himself at all!
As departure time for the last 20km cycle through Paris loomed, the Masons’ team debated the implications of the loss of a partner and tried to put together an indenticate for the police. One of the triathlon organisers trying to get to grips with the situation asked if he disappeared often. Brian was quick to defend Graham’s character – “No he’s not the sort of guy to go off with a woman or anything. I mean he’s married with two kids and just been made a partner”. No doubt he would have gone into an eulogy about him having the world at his feet etc, if the mug himself hadn’t strolled nonchalantly into the hotel lobby full of excuses about taxi drivers not knowing their way around Paris.
Peter had heroically set off with the cyclists as the sole Masons’ competitor still in full operating order, while the rest of the team filled out police forms and packed up the mini bus for the return trip. Angela used the after effects of tear gas as her excuse for not being able to keep her eyes open and soon handed the driving responsibility over to Brian (a clever ploy to get him out of the navigator’s seat).
Driving into Calais we realised we were yet another passport short after the theft, but predictably the French Passport Control was not particularly interested in a bus load of exhausted, snoring Brits and it was not until we had crossed the Channel that we had to use a bit of ingenuity.
Passport Panic
Or rather Nic opened his window and started succinctly explaining the situation to the bewildered passport official before anyone else could get a coherent version of events together. It went something like this: “Do you remember us? We were here last Friday. Well not really all of us… maybe this tee shirt is familiar? No? Well you see, we’re doing a triathlon and I can’t swim but did it nonetheless and it rained an awful lot, then Brian was hit by a car and everyone’s things were stolen, so here we are. I mean that’s why there are eight people and only four passports and we’re not wearing our own clothes, but we raised a lot of money and I think it would be nice of you to let us go home… Here, do you want a mars bar?”
At this point Graham managed to assemble his rather scattered wits and halt Nic’s verbal diarrhoea with a very authoritative sounding “Now perhaps I can explain…” But the passport official was not up to another version, especially with an Australian accent, so he shoved some forms through the window and waved the bus through.
London was reached without further incident and the team members headed home both richer and poorer for the trip! All vow they’ll be back there next year… as long as they never have to face another mars bar in their lives!
Team Profiles
This is the team that was voted least serious but best sports by the triathlon organisers who extracted a promise to enter again next year:
Brian Clark – navigation not his strong point, but showed extra dedication by extending the cycle route.
Graham Thompson – proved that a fine athletic performance is not dependent on sleep, alcoholic abstinence or intelligence,
Nicholas Zuraw – his boundless energy and enthusiasm kept other teams members trying to guess what he was taking…
Angela Main – showed that a woman can easily do what any man can do, but with intelligence and wit
Peter Turner – being a true gentlemen on taking up the Masons’ gauntlet
Anthony Smith – the anchor point for many of the teams spontaneous activities