From Jouy-en-Josas, to the heart of the Loire,
we departed one night, but did not go by car.
T’was a chariot of grey made of welded steel trusses -
If you want to be boring then you might call them buses.
From forty-four nations, some old and some new;
we had all been collected – the fortunate few.
The future looked brighter, and the past seemed less grim;
for the future was ‘beer’, and the past, ‘Negosim’!
We had joined here together for the singular aims
of drinking and dancing ’til we all recalled names.
Some simple, some hard; and the pro-nun-cia-tion,
formed a part of the game that we called ‘Integration’.
So the grey bus swerved sideways,
past the traffic and holes;
as we sang and and we smiled
at the shouts of “Hi Skol!”.
It was well into darkness when we rolled in to town;
but we all knew our place and we promptly sat down.
With a towel and a bedroom, all the problems met;
save for one tiny task that we hadn’t met yet.
red eyes were the fashion – we were too tired to fuss.
We all knew the schedule; t’was a lot to fit in;
so we quietly rolled on to ‘Chateau Tintin’.
Thus the day it continued in a similar vein;
with the chateaus expended we were given champagne.
In these renaissance homes of the highest of classes,
t’was symbolic, I thought, that some made off with glasses.
The bubbles crescendoed and rose to our heads,
and we boarded the buses, most dreaming of beds.
Yet the silence was shattered by a larakin lad:
“The night is not over! There is fun to be had!”
while the first day brought culture, the second brought games.
We would finish with races, but first had the chance,
to complete an adventure each chose in advance.
Some preferred walking, and some chose the bike;
these were all worthy options, and I’m sure they were liked.
But if I’m to be honest, there’s a thing I must say -
that the better of us chose a REAL M-Bee-A.
With the honey consumed and our bags in the back,
The buses took off at great speed for the track.
There we drove round in circles until everyone won,
and we laughed and we cheered in the last of the sun.
A few hours later we saw HEC -
That feeling of ‘home’ was a new one indeed.
The journey was over, the end was in sight;
and with mouthfuls of pizza we all said “Good night.”
Now I sit here reflecting on the weekend we’ve had,
the fact that it’s over makes me feel a bit sad.
But then I remember that the next is not far,
and in fact might come early…how ‘bout Thursday…P-Bar?