repeating myself

It's getting hard to find anything new to say about fencing. Bearing in mind my doctor's advice about sticking to "low-impact exercise," I've been hesitant about fencing for too long on club evenings. So I'm not merely a once-a-week fencer - I'm a fencer who doesn't fence that much when I get there. I tend to fence everyone who turns up to do epée, chat a bit and go home for an early night. I probably get as much exercise from the walk there and back (three miles in total) as I do from fencing.

The only aim I can have is to maintain my fencing at its current, low level. There are worse things than this. When I stop fencing for a while, my skills deteriorate and my sword no longer sits easily in my hand. At least I still get the occasional hit. But there's not much to report on a blog.

Still, it's good to see the new beginners. And it was fun to take part in the one-hit epée (for an Easter egg trophy) last week. There was the usual mix of levels, ages, sizes and fencing styles as the epéeists were joined by foilists and sabreurs.

We began in two pools of seven but then late-comers arrived and wanted to join in. Our pool expanded to nine. As usual, most of the time was spent in wiring up, sharing equipment and testing weapons. And there were some unexpected results with two good sabreurs unable to reach the final fence-off after a couple of doubles (scored as a double defeat).

At the beginning, facing good fencers, I did what I could to defend and stay out of reach but lacked the aggression that might just have achieved a lucky hit. I began to realise this and at least managed a lengthy, attacking bout against a tall fencer who had barely fenced epée before but was on a winning streak. He not only beat me but was one of the two from the pool to qualify for the semi-final.

I noticed that an excellent young foilist who made the semi-finals last year had been unlucky in her first bouts - and it seemed to have affected her confidence. She's a dangerous left-hander who I've faced without success in one-hit and in club competitions. As I wired up to face her I could see her uncertainty. When the referee said "Play," she seemed to pause for a moment. I didn't - I charged forward, clumsily but as fast as I could, and made the hit a moment before she reacted.

For a moment I was delighted - it was my first hit after a run of defeats and not one I'd expected. But then I saw the disappointment on my opponent's face and felt sorry. I tried to say something encouraging but she plainly felt awful. She hadn't merely been beaten by a weaker fencer - I'm old enough to be her grandmother.

In the end, I managed two hits out of eight - not good but not as bad as I'd feared. I was sorry that the Easter egg went to a sabreur this year but at least there were small creme eggs for all competitors. And, whatever my doctor advises, I don't think my back is getting any worse because of the fencing.

"Fail again. Fail better."

I'm back on Blogger. I didn't mean to take a break but life (and death) caught up with me, as they do. I've missed a couple of fencing evenings, once because I had to travel to the funeral of a friend and once because I was away at a Quaker event - Britain Yearly Meeting - where we finally and overwhelmingly reached the decision to treat same-sex marriages in the same way as opposite-sex marriages. It was quite an easy decision and relatively quick, given Friends' labyrinthine processes - it only took us twenty-two years.

In the meantime, my fencing has been erratic. I was greatly encouraged by a postcard from Beth at Screw Bronze which arrived just as I needed it. Losing a friend can make it hard to focus on anything and this friend worked hard at remembering to enquire after my fencing progress. There was even a phone-call once announcing that there had been fencing on the television. I was thrilled. "What weapon?" I asked. There was a pause, then a question in reply, "What's the difference?" But those regular enquiries helped immensely. It's ever so good when a friend takes an interest.

Back from the funeral, I found myself fencing a young woman of less than half my age who usually defeats me easily, even though foil is her main weapon. We agreed to fence to ten. I didn't feel like doing anything but decided I'd fence as if my friend was watching and supporting me. It felt good. I took the first two points, then we realised that there was a problem with the wiring. When it was corrected, we started again from zero and, yet again, I found I was two points up. I didn't seem likely to win, even with that advantage, but I determined to do my best.

Somehow, every time she caught up, I pulled ahead, never by more than one or two points. She drew level at 8 all and then I managed the hit that took me to 9-8. I wanted to get the next point and win the bout. As I darted forward with my blade, I felt her point attach on my arm. I was sure it was 9 all. But when I looked at the electric box I saw both red and green lights. It was a double - I'd done it and won 10-9.

After that my fencing slipped but it was good to know what winning felt like. I tried to remember that as my skill slipped in the rest of the evening - and in the club's one-hit epee contest where, to my surprise, I didn't come last. I gave advice to a couple of young sabreurs who were trying epee for fun - one hit me while my brief bout against the other ended in a "double defeat" (doubles lose in one-hit contests). I managed a solitary victory against a fencer who said he'd done what I warned him against last year - somehow he walked onto my sword. I knew that what I needed was the will to win - and, ideally, greater strength, speed and accuracy. The club president, who is in his 60s, had one of his frequent victories though he refused to take the sparkling wine which he had donated as the prize.

August is for free fencing and we have the hall for only two hours. I made it this week. Attendance had slipped to no more than thirty, mostly foilists and sabreurs. I spent some time fencing the only epeeist there - he's taking a break from coaching foil. Again I fenced as though I were showing a friend what fun it was - and I was faster, more varied and quicker to see openings. I may have achieved a hand hit by luck but it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been doing my best. I remembered to parry more and to follow each parry with the best attack I could manage, even though my wrists weren't quite strong enough to take my opponent's blade easily.

Towards the end, I began to tire and when my opponent suggested we fence to five my will to win had evaporated. He attacked more strongly and my defences were too slow and weak. He won 5-0. But he remarked that I had improved and was harder to hit, adding that in our preliminary fencing I'd managed five hits in a row, so I didn't feel so bad.

There were no other epeeists. Seeing a 12-year-old sitting at the edge of the hall, I asked her if she'd like to fence me at foil. It's sometimes hard for fencers of that age to challenge fencers who seem much older and more experienced. It was good for me to try the discipline of foil and good for my legs to take up the challenge of fencing someone much smaller than me. After only a year, my young opponent has a good stance and technique. Perhaps she'll move on to epee when she's bigger and stronger. (I won, by the way, though she'll probably beat me when she's a bit bigger. Still, it's important to remember that fencing is not just for the young.)

chocolate santa

We agreed it was a fine trophy. The club president had, as usual, brought a chocolate santa as the prize for the one-hit epee contest. It lay in a basket of miniature santas, on the floor.

With the inducement of chocolate, foilists and sabreurs prepared to join in. Their epee technique may be unconventional but with only one hit to count, it can be deadly. Usually the trick against foilistsor sabreurs is to look for that split second in which they try to establish right of way. In one-hit epee that's a risky strategy since a double hit means a double defeat.

I think there were ten or eleven of us in the pool unique and, for once, I wasn't the only woman. The Polish epeeist had borrowed breeches so that she could join in. She'd brought a friend, another epeeist, who was sadly left to fence foil with beginners and intermediates as he didn't have epee kit.

One-hit epee usually means more time is spent attaching body wires and testing blades than actually fencing. However, inspired by the thought of that chocolate santa, bouts were so slow that a stopwatch might have come in handy. Fencers advanced for a moment, then withdrew, keeping out of range of their opponents' blades rather than risk the hit that would defeat them.

On-hit epee can be wonderfully unpredictable. I achieved two hits, one against the eventual runner-up, though that my have been kindness on his part. There was a happy moment when the women fencing other weapons cheered me, and I managed my second hit.

At the end of the pool, two fencers tied for first place with seven hits each. The final duel was again cautious but won, I'm pleased to say, by a regular epeeist. His Oscar-style speech, thanking his mother, father, grandmother, great aunts, etc. was drowned out as he wiped away a pretend tear. He lifted his large santa for photos as the rest of us ate the miniatures.

I think the Polish fencers were surprised by our lack of seriousness and the amount of laughter between fencers. I think that was something they enjoyed - I hope so.