The French phenomenon
Sue and her friends all need a man. Could it be a miracle when 15 fit French rugby players, who also happen to be firemen, arrive in their local town?
"God - I need a man!"
"Even a little nibble would be good," says Carys, checking my fridge for something not too far past it's sell by date.
Then there they are. It's like a miracle! We stare, mesmerised by the beauty of it. Fifteen or more fit looking blokes, right on my doorstep (or right by the river, which pretty much is my doorstep).
Not a male voice choir - cos no matching blazers, but Duw - well tidy - clean shoes and all.
Then the mayor appears with his bling bling, and the rest of the crachach.
I am out that door with a bit of stale bread pretending to feed the seagulls, as they retreat towards the Llew Coch. I can just hear them speaking French and smell French cigarettes. Only the photographer is left.
"Town twinning committee." He is unimpressed. Doesn't hold with foreigners. "Rugby match with Clermont-Ferrand. Here till Sunday. Firemen. Brought their own masseur. Local lads won't like it."
But I do! Rugby players - how fit! French - how romantic! And firemen - how heroic! All our dreams in one.
Carys hangs out the bedroom window (the only place we can get a signal) calling mobile to mobile. I do the land line.
"Foreign rugby team - no, not bloody English - bloody French! Fifteen Fit French Firemen - honest! And a masseur! More than enough to go around!"
Saturday afternoon we lie in wait at the Rugby Club bar.
...and that is how Carys met Jacques, Tina met Jean-Paul, Monica met Charles and I met Pierre. Mwah!