Bill and Ted's Excellentes Aventures

[Kev B]

GL boys.

[smashedagain]

On Wednesday evening the Father and I depart for Deauville to play in the France Poker Series out there.

A number of Blondes have bought a piece of our action over here: http://blondepoker.com/forum/index.php?topic=60010.0

....and as promised here is the thread where we will write something of a travel blog hopefully chronicling a rather successful outing. We meant to do something like this last time we went out and never got round to it which rankles the Father to this day so....here it is.

In the meantime, for those of you who live under a rock and don't know Ian 'Credible Hundred' Gascoigne, here he is:



For those of you who have had the good fortune to not yet meet me, I look something like this:

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And for those who have never been, Deauville casino looks something like this:

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Please feel free to ask any questions you may have here....

Allez!!

your dad looks a lot like Rick Trigg with that hair and pose. You n Trigg could be same jockey different horses

[taximan007]

Looking forward to the reports, and best of luck to you both

[zerofive]

Amazing. Ed Gasoigne's posting gold consolidated into one thread. Bookmarked.

[Ant040689]

In. Best of luck!

[tikay]

Managed to get a shot of Ian in the car, as they set off.

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[edgascoigne]

Mother Gascoigne, before dedicating years of her life to raising me and my sister, was a French and German teacher. After reading both languages at Lancaster University (where she met the young upstart Ian, who was but a second year yet behaving like he owned the place when she returned from her year abroad) she went on to teach in various spots and to various sorts before ultimately settling in Leicestershire where she lives to this day.

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Me and 'The Mothership'

Father Gascoigne, before dedicating years of his life to working his way through the ranks at a wealth management company the intricacies of 3b bluffing ranges and the intricacies of the triple range merge, worked as a probation officer and social worker with youngsters living a little too close to the boundary between teenage rebellion and criminality.

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Like Father, Like Son

It would be safe to say that my passion for all things Francophile comes from my mum’s side. If this is true, I suppose I must grudgingly accept that my passion for poker comes from my ‘Y’ chromosomes, of which Ian is alarmingly the source. If we are indeed a product of nature and nurture, I would say I am a fair case in point.


Obvious French influence is obvious

Whilst reading French and Spanish at University I discovered the game of poker in a purely social context. Returning home one holiday I spoke to Ian of my new-found interest in the game (I am rather an obsessive sort), and so it was decided that we would head to play the £10 rebuy at Gala possessing nothing but a smattering of knowledge between us (hand rankings for me, how to boss people at 3-card brag for Ian). I bust in 8th for £60 when my Q-10hh couldn’t outrun a chap’s 99. Ian bust when they wouldn’t let him rebuy any more.

We were both hooked.

[edgascoigne]

When my sister and I were younger we holidayed ‘en famille’ in France a lot. If we weren’t in the caravan in Norfolk it would be a fair bet that we’d be either shuttling over to Le Touquet or heading to Club Med down in Opio.

Whilst the latter offered fantastic weather, many different activities to get involved in and a wonderful buffet it also meant a flight, a reasonable chunk of organisation and the Mothership taking the dreaded cab ride through the mountain roads.


Obviously a gross exaggeration but you get the picture.

[Digression] Mother Gascoigne gets travel sick, especially on the road if she is made to drive at anything beyond her statutory speed (28mph in a 30, 36 in a 40, 45 in a 50 and 54 on the Motorway). The full family crowd came to visit when I was living in Paris, and we hopped in a cab at the Gare du Nord. Mother asked the driver, in her best (if a little rusty/school teacher-y ) French if he wouldn’t mind driving relatively placidly as she gets car sick. The driver huffed, puffed and launched his shoulders vertically in a way only a Frenchman can. (Note, if you can lift your shoulders above your ears you almost certainly have some French ancestry, fact). I remained silent, if a little miffed at the affront to my mum. I did however decide that any further monkey business and he would feel the force of my résistance. After a quiet first few minutes, when he (somehow) found a relatively quiet stretch of road he started driving like a loon. Mothership repeated her request, he slowed down but began muttering rather derogatory ‘verlan’ (French/Parisian slang whereby words are inverted or pronounced a l’envers) about my mother. Having remained mute for the voyage thus far, I let him have it. Properly, in my very best 'listenerefrenchswineyoumayhavethoughtiwazzestupeedinglishpombutowdoyoulikemenow' ghetto French. I’ve never been so angry. He shut up pretty sharpish and drove the remainder of the journey like James May.

Skip to 42secs in...



[/Digression]

And so it was that we would instead ‘nip’ to Le Touquet, where we shall be stopping over on Wednesday evening en route to Deauville.






 

[RED-DOG]

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[cambridgealex]

Thanks for the mention Ed [ ] !

[edgascoigne]

Thanks for the mention Ed [ ] !

All in good time...

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[kinboshi]

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[edgascoigne]

Le Touquet(-Paris-Plage) is a small little town on the coast about 45mins drive south from Calais. Owing to its comparative accessibility from Paris it has long been a popular destinations for Parisians popping for a weekend away. Where the vast majority of the Nord Pas-de-Calais is somewhere between rural paysans and industrial developments, Le Touquet is certainly a gem. The beach is extensive, relatively windswept and peaceful out of season whilst being manageable at peak times.



We’re merely stopping over for an evening to break the journey down and ensure we are fresh for the FPS Main which begins Thursday, but it’s always nice to visit 'old friends'.

Joining the Gascoigne raiding party is none other than the original Poshboy of these parts, Alex ‘cambridgealex’ Goulder:



We are all convening tomorrow late afternoon in Swanley, and whilst the father and I will be mixing it with the hoi polloi on the train, I believe Alex has a rather more comfortable solution planned. Glamorous Swanley certainly is not, convenient however it definitely is lying square in the commuter belt just half an hour by train from Victoria/London Bridge and right by the M20 down to Folkestone.

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[edgascoigne]

Deauville beach, just as a point of comparison to Swanley. Guess where a two bed flat costs more?



And here is the casino that overlooks the beach. Strong.

[titaniumbean]

Long walk back if you push it.

gowan Ian, do wins I need to eat!


Also more father photos from back in they day when cameras were first introduced pls Ed