On Sunday I took a drive up to Manor Road, my former claustrophobic residence when I first moved to the City of Cheese and Not Much Else. You see it turns out I lived about five feet from the sports centre where my fencing class was being held.
So how did it go? I was expecting ritual humiliation, but it was ok, aside from the fact that being left-handed makes finding a foil less fun. Being told to look for foils inscribed with "Left Handed" on the pommel rather than "Leicester Uni" or a drunken "LU" that more resembles "LE" is a bit of an ordeal.
It was actually quite good fun. The coach is actually quite amusing, and there's drinking after the classes which makes me rue the notion of driving in to the class. I don't think I missed much last week given the coach didn't turn up and we started working on footwork and so forth, and the lunge which is a very basic move. I did get a bit narked though when it turned out all the jackets and so forth were for skinny people and I was made to stand to one side in a corner while everyone else (including larger people) took it in turns to get stabbedd. The armourer assured me that this would be taken care of next week.