Dear Little Su the singing angel came home last night from her second session at fencing. Not the sort involving posts, strainers and no.8 wire, but the kind involving cutlery. And not just any old cutlery, or even foils or epees, but a Sabre.
I have no idea how good at it Su is yet, I have yet to get to watch. But she rather shamefacedly admitted last night that she somehow accidentally got past some young lad’s guard and caught him a blow in the netherlands. Must have been some blow – because she left him incapacitated and vomiting. That’s my girl, never does anything by halves. So far in the name of sport she has broken another girl’s nose, and dislocated yet another’s knee in soccer, and now she has performed a double orchotomy, while so far remaining unharmed herself. Best not to be the opponent of one of my kids when they are armed.
The up-side was that I could use this to point out that her erstwhile opponent’s reaction proved the value of my previous advice on where and how hard to put her knee if she was ever intimidated or threatened by an overly expectatious young man.
So, be afraid. Be very afraid. Su has a sabre, and she knows how to use it.