Lost In France

It has been pointed out - quite rightly - that myself and dunkyc have been a bit obsessed with blood lately. So when this picture popped up in FB memories this morning, I thought I’d use it as I am watching the start of the Le Mans 24 Hours Race as I write this. Sadly, and unlike in the photo, I am not there in person but am watching it on the telly. Though I intended to go to the race in 2020 for my 60th birthday, covid put paid to that plan so it is now nearly 20 years since I last made the pilgrimage to that part of France.
I think the picture is from our trip in 1990. I base this supposition on the fact that the Eric Clapton t-shirt I am wearing is from a concert in January of that year, and I sold my 911 in 1991. And, despite driving a Porsche, my Jaguar jacket attests to who I was supporting that year. I have just noticed that one of the cars this year is being driven by Alex Brundle, and it was his father - Martin Brundle - who won in 1990 in a Jaguar. It was a great race to attend and a great result for all us Brits who were there. I definitely have to go back before I get too old and decrepit.
Talking of which, there is still one more performance of the play to get through tonight. We had a scare earlier when one cast member’s parents tested positive for covid, but he has - thankfully - just tested negative, so we are good to go. And I’ve been to the gym this morning - I may be a corpse for part of this play, but there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be a ripped corpse.
And, as it’s the last performance and we’ve still got a lot of “blood” left, I suspect there may be moments tonight which will make “Kill Bill” look like a light hearted romp…