Getting lost in France is turning into a theme for the year, I'm afraid. That's why I do not go on hikes by myself. I have called myself a geographic dyslexic ever since reading that term in the novel "The Accidental Tourist" years ago, and it really does apply.
Anyway, we made it to the tournament and back, and in between, Jed was in five fencing matches. He lost each one, but two were close---5-4, I think. If he was bothered by defeat, he did not show it. He was cool all day, not at all nervous or upset.
Jed and his wonderful coach, Clément
Getting killed in the second match
My handsome, shaggy boy
No haircut is in our future, apparently. I'm leaving this decision to the 8-year-old.