After consuming fast food at a pace in Lord Foster's vast warehouse known as Stansted, the six of us boarded our RyanAir flight to Nimes. Not long into the flight a heated exchange took place between Tim and not one, but two stewardesses. Tim's parting comment upon being labelled as 'childish' was that it was "only because they fancied me". The Higham hungry trolley dollies went their separate ways and the potential flight diversion to Paris to offload a troublesome passenger was avoided. Upon arriving at Nimes, JJ negotiated a fine deal on the hire of a gleaming silver éspace, and before you could say "motorway toll gates" we were well beyond Marseille. An unexpected, and more than welcome detour found us at JJ's mother's house sipping champagne early evening. From here we drove to on to the 'Kime Dojo' in Nice where we would be staying the night.

After offloading our bags and doing the rounds of óssu we crossed the street to a local restaurant for dinner with Gilles and his family. Following a fine meal (including the cliched frogs legs eaten by us 'roast beef') thoughts were focussing on the intense training the following day, beginning with a 6.30am alarm call. Turning to JJ for some Sensei guidance we were reminded of the 'work hard, play hard' ethic and the 'Rock 'n Roll Dojo' name was born. So then off to a night-club for more drinks where we were served by the famous Frederick Aguilar.

Heads were sore as the bleary eyed Londoners boarded the éspace at 7am and watched the sun rise between naps as we headed one hour west to St Raphael. We arrived in time for breakfast and made a poor choice of rocquefort and olive 'heavy' bread over and above the quintessential croissant. David, one of the French black belts, kindly bought us all coffees and we proceeded on to CREPS, one of the French centres for sports excellence. Our accommodation was in a magnificent classical building with palm trees flanking the entrance steps and views of the Mediterranean sea.

The first three hour session was taken by Gilles (5th Dan) and was bare knuckle Shidokan Karate. The warm up was the longest I've experienced and certainly got the heart rate going. The combination of this physical onslaught and my hangover dehydration soon had me gasping for the Evian but I was told we were not allowed! The training was great though, and all of us picked up a trick or two, not to mention a kick or two from Gilles. Picture Kiba Dachi stance with a man on your shoulders, flexing the quadriceps with a 120kg karate machine throwing mae geri's at your midriff with enough force to knock over a small cow. Following about seven two minute sparring rounds with our fellow students, the reward of lunch (and water!) was finally upon us.

Off then to eat at wonderful glass 'miesian' pavilion nearby. Us 'crazy English' proceeded to eat outside on the terrace relishing the slightly warmer than England temperature brought on by rays of….sunshine (not seen by us for many weeks). JJ found stiff competition when promoting the Shidokan GB fleece as the general consensus admired the Shidokan France sleeveless top with its Adidas stripe pretensions and groovy hood. At least JJ was enlightened to the term 'spit roasting' ably demonstrated by Tim with two forks and a half eaten tomato.

If we thought the morning was tough then the afternoon soon dispelled that thought. Our teachers were Jonny Tancray ( French and European thai boxing champion) and Xavier. The warm up seemed to last forever and had us at one point doing over a hundred neck raises which had Tim complaining about having to re-stock his shirt collection with an increased collar size. The training was intense and I had my first experience of cramp, my calf muscle locking out executing a jodan ma washi geri. Tim and I had a round with Jonny whilst Pippa, Peroline and Kirsty endured the might of Gilles. The girls were certainly 'blooded' as Peroline saw rage, Kirsty saw stars, and Pippa saw claret pouring out of both nostrils.

Knackered yet exhilarated we had completed six hours of hard training and the prospect of the evening meal (with wine) was too good to be true. Physically exhausted we could barely toast our vin rouge. However, the rock 'n roll ethic prevailed and we soon found ourselves on the Hoegardens and whiskies in a small bar in town, with Gilles and his entourage until the early hours. Getting up the following morning with every muscle aching (on top of the obligatory hangover) proved a real test. A prompt 9am start with John Fremont (1st Dan) saw us working on throws and groundwork. It was a good opportunity to learn and practice such techniques as our hard floor in the London Dojo is prohibitive. We all felt a real sense of achievement at the end of the session, and all made it through intact. As I was casting my thoughts on how I managed not to pick up any nasty injuries while packing my rucksack, I stood up abruptly and smashed the back of my head on a very heavy, wall mounted fire extinguisher nearly knocking myself out!

How good did lunch feel after completing the two days! From the CREPS camp the Londoners headed back to Nice via JJ's home again for more champagne and civilisation hosted by his elegant and charming mother. The plan for the final evening involved surprising an old friend of JJ's who was celebrating his birthday in Nice with his girlfriend. The two of them were settling down to a romantic meal for two in a highly regarded restaurant in Nice old town. His face was a picture as JJ appeared at his table to take their order. We all moved to a larger table and proceeded to have a superb evening culminating in flaming sambucas and, taking control of the restaurant CD player, playing various Stranglers tracks (probably rather too loud for our fellow diners).

We moved onto an Irish bar where we found some Americans lined up at the bar with an acoustic guitar. I requested 'Hotel California' by the Eagles and managed to remember most of the lyrics despite my inebriated state. I then seized the opportunity to procure the guitar and present JJ with it for a rare 'Unplugged in Nice' impromptu set, to which we all provided backing vocals. Fantastic. Back to the Dojo to tuck into a rather dubious bottle of liqueur until the early hours.

After breakfast we left a 'thank you' bottle of champagne in the Dojo fridge and set off for Nimes. The weather was fantastic and it was a pleasure driving through the French countryside with its hamlets and vineyards. We stopped for a swift 'au revoir' Kronenborg/ pastisse in a strange little new town before our flight back to Stansted. The trip was a great experience and on behalf of all of us who attended from the London (Rock 'n Roll) Dojo, I would like to say a very big thank you for JJ for making it all happen.

See you again next year!

Miles

The annual winter gassaku in Frejus/St Raphael is a must for all martial artists. The nine hours of training in the three disciplines within Shidokan (bare knuckle, Thai, grappling) and accommodation and food come to a mere £45.