In the chilly evenings of Floreal at the Discobole, Paul Ducray, owner and coach, would, by his mere presence and quiet authority, inspire us all, male and female gym goers alike, to be achievers of our own ambitions and believers in our dreams. I am speaking of my own gym days during the couple of years prior to my Miss Mauritius adventures. Paul was, and still is to this day, an example, a mentor, a model of many qualities that I have tried to adopt throughout my life. “Allo! Rachel McLish!” he would call out teasingly. I would smile but grimace at the same time, looking up to the poster of this impossibility – perfectly sculpted body, tanned with oil, smiling and pleasant face, tousled hair. 
Why? He would say, you train and you can easily be her in no time. This was Paul: quietly urging us on, never pushy, nor tossing meaningless gym-pep speak at us. He believed in me and I started believing in myself too, and forged on, unstoppable. Twice or three evenings a week, I would be coached in diet, body sculpting, and also in human values, for this was a man of many accomplishments, in athletics, martial arts, body building, he ran his business, he was involved in social or some political work too. He could have been puffed up and pompous, bestowing clichéd advice, with his impressive physique, all broad shoulders and long legs that he was, but no, Mr Mauritius had that gentleness, that intense lovingness for all, to stop a moment, ask if you needed help, helped, demonstrated a correct approach, spoke a little about body-mind strength, and sometimes chat a bit about les actualités, then allow you your space to make your progress at your chosen pace. With my training friend –I am so sorry I have forgotten her name –I gradually came to some deep inner realisation about what teaching, or coaching or helping, was about: there was no imposition, no patronising, instead we grew and reached for what we had hitherto not believed we had the potential for because that was what Paul Ducray, with his good humour and gentlemanly, respectful guidance, taught us. Beauty inside and out, that was him.
To Géraldine his daughter who I had the serendipitous good fortune of speaking with just a few weeks ago at L’Antiquaire: my sincere condolences at the passing of your father. I know how close you have always been to your Dad, and how you were both proud of each other. He was a gift to the world that so many of us enjoyed and are thankful for. There is something intemporal about the influence of a special teacher. Many of us like to think of one such teacher who touched our minds and left a mark on our spirits by the way they spoke or some special attention they may have bestowed upon us. We carry these impressions for a long time, for a lifetime, even, as they in turn weave a quiet thread through our psyche and personality. He may not be here in his physical form but I can still see and hear Paul call out in his strong, deep voice, twinkling eyes under a shock of blonde-white hair: Bonsoir Rachel McLish! Like then, today too, I smile back, in deep gratitude.
