Quiet weekend. La bienheureuse returned from an enjoyable, though slightly more work-orientated trip than expected, trip to the Baltic coast on Friday evening. The rest of the weekend I nursed my back while she fussed and packed for our two weeks off. Drive up to the ferry today, via an overnight stop in Laon, thence to Blighty for a week, returning slowly next week through Champagne & Bourgogne, a viticultural tour you might say...
Spring did arrive over the weekend - lovely sunny, warm weather - but has flown away again this morning. 10 degrees cooler and raining. We took brief advantage yesterday with a gentle stroll along the river, and managed to limp along to Stade Gerland on Saturday evening to watch OL take another stumbling step towards title number seven.
Strange sort of match, 2-1 down at half time after looking entirely uninterested, les lyonnais woke up in the second half and forced an equaliser, despite emerging from the dressing rooms with only ten men. All rather bizarre - only 10 players from each team initially came out for the 2nd half (actually only 9 for Lyon, but a half-time sub also came on), and everybody waited for more than five minutes. Eventually the 11th Caen player came out, shortly followed by the match officials. Turns out there was a bit of a ruckus in the tunnel, the OL left-back Grosso slapped a Caen player, received a 2nd yellow card, so was sent off while not actually on the pitch...
28 avril 2008
25 avril 2008
A broken man
Not a good week overall. Monday morning la bienheureuse jets off to Germany for the week. Tuesday morning I knacker my back, ironically whilst stretching after doing my back-strengthening morning exersizes. At that stage it was uncomfortable but bearable, and I was able to trundle down to the pub in the evening to watch CSKA Fulham fluke a draw against the Scousers.
Wednesday morning I sneezed and my back almost broke in two. Now I can barely move. You'd have thought I'd know by now that sneezing is the most hazardous activity for congenitally weak spines. From a prone position on the floor manage to watch the evil red empire bore their way to a draw in Catalonia. Enjoyed the penalty miss at least...
Meanwhile I continue fighting the losing battle with the leaking pipe. Said pipe is now almost entirely cased in 'leak-fixing' putty, but as soon as there's any pressure in the pipe a tiny little fountain appears. Bah! But I'm not beaten yet...
There is one glimmer of hope as the weekend approaches. Looks like spring has finally arrived.
Wednesday morning I sneezed and my back almost broke in two. Now I can barely move. You'd have thought I'd know by now that sneezing is the most hazardous activity for congenitally weak spines. From a prone position on the floor manage to watch the evil red empire bore their way to a draw in Catalonia. Enjoyed the penalty miss at least...
Meanwhile I continue fighting the losing battle with the leaking pipe. Said pipe is now almost entirely cased in 'leak-fixing' putty, but as soon as there's any pressure in the pipe a tiny little fountain appears. Bah! But I'm not beaten yet...
There is one glimmer of hope as the weekend approaches. Looks like spring has finally arrived.
21 avril 2008
Normal service resumed
For once a smooth trip across La Manche: no travel problems (M11 open this time, flight home actually landed 20 minutes early), and winning ways were resumed at the premier football venue in the land, despite a hatful of missed chances. And I returned to find la bienheureuse had done enough cooking over the weekend to forestall the need for me to do any during her time in Rostock. If I didn't know better, I might think she was tempting me to go away more often...
Only downside of the weekend was failure number 4 in the battle of the leaking pipe. Question now is do I give in and call le plombier, or do I stubbornly fight on...?
Only downside of the weekend was failure number 4 in the battle of the leaking pipe. Question now is do I give in and call le plombier, or do I stubbornly fight on...?
18 avril 2008
Leaking pipes & creaking joints
A fairly unremarkable week chez nous. Only event of real note, my battle with a leaking pipe. Score so far: leak 3, moi 0. Would never have thought a piddling little leak would be so difficult to plug. Two lessons learned so far:
one: the 'dry' solders & repair mastics available in DIY stores are rubbish.
two: should have called the plumber in the first place.
Actually I still haven't called le plombier. Giving it one last go. Thought I had it beaten last night when it stayed dry when I turned the water back on. Problem is that it's in a hot water pipe, and as soon as a hot tap was run a veritable fountain sprung up from what is a mere pinhole.
Speaking of pinholes, la bienheureuse now has knees full of them. She finally got round to going back to le medicin earlier in the week, to try and get her troublesome knees sorted out. Our local GP specialises in a rather bizarre treatment called mésothérapie, which involves using short (3mm) needles to inject medicine just beneath the skin. La bienheureuse thus came home with a rash of red dots all around her knees. However, a more in-depth diagnosis does seem to be also on the cards as the doctor also sent her for an x-ray, with a scan possibly to follow later if necessary.
Meanwhile, sucker for punishment, I'm off this evening on another flying cross-channel visit to the new home of football. Back early on Sunday, in time to spend a few hours with the wife before she jets off to Rostock on Monday for a 4 day work jolly.
one: the 'dry' solders & repair mastics available in DIY stores are rubbish.
two: should have called the plumber in the first place.
Actually I still haven't called le plombier. Giving it one last go. Thought I had it beaten last night when it stayed dry when I turned the water back on. Problem is that it's in a hot water pipe, and as soon as a hot tap was run a veritable fountain sprung up from what is a mere pinhole.
Speaking of pinholes, la bienheureuse now has knees full of them. She finally got round to going back to le medicin earlier in the week, to try and get her troublesome knees sorted out. Our local GP specialises in a rather bizarre treatment called mésothérapie, which involves using short (3mm) needles to inject medicine just beneath the skin. La bienheureuse thus came home with a rash of red dots all around her knees. However, a more in-depth diagnosis does seem to be also on the cards as the doctor also sent her for an x-ray, with a scan possibly to follow later if necessary.
Meanwhile, sucker for punishment, I'm off this evening on another flying cross-channel visit to the new home of football. Back early on Sunday, in time to spend a few hours with the wife before she jets off to Rostock on Monday for a 4 day work jolly.
14 avril 2008
It's a thin line...
...between success and failure. In the end there was never any real doubt. I went to the pub yesterday (la bienheureuse decided it was safer, for both of us, if she stayed at home), couldn't really not do so, despite a high level of nervousness about how the young team would react to the midweek setback. Oh me of little faith. I watched the almost mighty Gunners outplay their opponents again, miss too many chances again, get the bad rub of the green again, and lose out to debatable refereeing decisions again. The match proved two things to me:
1. For some unfathomable reason the gods, the refs and luck have all turned against les canonniers over the last two months. If you believe in luck balancing out over time, put your house on AFC to win everything next year.
2. There can now be no doubt now which team plays the best football in the land. And it's not the one which won yesterday.
1. For some unfathomable reason the gods, the refs and luck have all turned against les canonniers over the last two months. If you believe in luck balancing out over time, put your house on AFC to win everything next year.
2. There can now be no doubt now which team plays the best football in the land. And it's not the one which won yesterday.
13 avril 2008
Rising water, sinking hopes
If proof be needed of the amount of rain falling in the area over the last few days, it could be found yesterday by a stroll along the banks of the Rhône. The river was flowing at a tremendous rate and, for the first time since the berges du Rhône were remodelled, the water rose above the level of the quays.
It's something that has happened occasionally in the past, in the days when the lower quays were used primarily as a car park, but not since they were turned into a riverside park. The area of worst flooding happens to be the stretch of river closest to us, so it will be interesting to see how the development copes.
Yesterday was otherwise a surprisingly bright day, warmed by a fair amount of sunshine. We dutifully trundled along to Gerland for the late afternoon match against Rennes and were glad we took sunglasses, but conversely took too many layers. The match was a fairly dull affair. OL took a first half lead but then made the mistake of settling for the one goal win, and les Bretons got a deserved equaliser in injury time. Les gones were not happy. If Bordeaux win today, the lead is cut to four points.
Meanwhile I can't decide whether to go to the pub this afternoon to subject myself to more grief, or to stay at home and sulk in private. Trouble is, if the unlikely happens and another glorious Old Twafford victory is pulled out of the hat I'll be equally upset if I don't go. It's a tough life being a football obsessive...
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| From Les Berges du Rhône |
It's something that has happened occasionally in the past, in the days when the lower quays were used primarily as a car park, but not since they were turned into a riverside park. The area of worst flooding happens to be the stretch of river closest to us, so it will be interesting to see how the development copes.
Yesterday was otherwise a surprisingly bright day, warmed by a fair amount of sunshine. We dutifully trundled along to Gerland for the late afternoon match against Rennes and were glad we took sunglasses, but conversely took too many layers. The match was a fairly dull affair. OL took a first half lead but then made the mistake of settling for the one goal win, and les Bretons got a deserved equaliser in injury time. Les gones were not happy. If Bordeaux win today, the lead is cut to four points.
Meanwhile I can't decide whether to go to the pub this afternoon to subject myself to more grief, or to stay at home and sulk in private. Trouble is, if the unlikely happens and another glorious Old Twafford victory is pulled out of the hat I'll be equally upset if I don't go. It's a tough life being a football obsessive...
11 avril 2008
A taxing meeting
Yesterday, four and a half years after she started working there, I finally got to see inside of the secure building that is the workplace of la bienheureuse. The excuse was a meeting with a lawyer specialising in tax affairs who was giving us a lesson in how to fill in our tax form. Up until now we've had it done for us by accountants provided by the company under the terms of la bienheureuse's transfer to Lyon. This year we're on our own. Not that there appears much to it, particularly if we do it online, but it was nice to get one or two points and questions cleared up. Taxes in France are still paid in arrears, so this is last year's tax we're talking about - more detail on the subject in the adjacent post...
Anyway, very nice it was too. The building la bienheureuse works in, I mean. Pleasant landscaped inner courtyard, bright airy reception area, greenery everywhere. I passed up the opportunity to go upstairs to see the inner sanctuary, la bienheureuse's office, which was deemed 'too untidy' for the meeting with the tax advisor. Maybe next time...
As for my own work, as usual it's a bit of a struggle to buckle down to it. But once this piece is posted, I resolve do so. Once I've been shopping for weekend provisions. Though it's pissing down with rain at the moment, so that might have to wait. Maybe lunch first, then shopping, then work...
Anyway, very nice it was too. The building la bienheureuse works in, I mean. Pleasant landscaped inner courtyard, bright airy reception area, greenery everywhere. I passed up the opportunity to go upstairs to see the inner sanctuary, la bienheureuse's office, which was deemed 'too untidy' for the meeting with the tax advisor. Maybe next time...
As for my own work, as usual it's a bit of a struggle to buckle down to it. But once this piece is posted, I resolve do so. Once I've been shopping for weekend provisions. Though it's pissing down with rain at the moment, so that might have to wait. Maybe lunch first, then shopping, then work...
La declaration des impots
This year marks the first time we have to fill in tax returns on our own. Not entirely unaided mind you, because we had a lesson yesterday on how to do it from the lawyer who did it for us last year. In previous years, accountants provided under the terms of la bienheureuse's mutation to France had submitted our returns for us, though it's debatable whether this made things easier or not, as the forms they provided for us to fill in seemed more complicated than the tax forms themselves. Though of course they were in English, so in theory the chances of a faulty tax return were reduced...
France still collects tax in arrears. ie salaries are paid untaxed (though in contrast, social security contributions are removed at source, and the latter take almost as large a slice of our income as income tax), and tax returns for the year only have to be submitted by the end of May the following year. And it's possible to pay the tax for one year in a single lump sum, the deadline for which isn't until the end of September. Though there are also options to pay in 3 installments spread between March and September, or in 10 'monthly' installments. All very complicated. There was talk before the election of moving to a pay as you earn system, as in the UK, but that requires figuring out how to handle the changeover year, notably whether everybody in France gets one year 'tax-free', so it remains to be seen whether it ever happens.
They have made things slightly easier in recent years, at least for people on a regular salary, by introducing 'pré-remplit' tax returns. ie the forms arrive in our letter box, partly filled in with name, address, etc, and one's taxable income for the year, which is provided to the tax authorities by one's employer. All of which makes it fairly simple to fill out. In fact, we really only have one other figure to fill in - total income from bank account interest. And if we do it online we don't even need to provided the documentary evidence that's required if it's done with a paper form. Marvelous. Though of course we do have to keep the documents available in case the authorities decided to check. Our advisor told us this was unlikely though. Ho hum...
France still collects tax in arrears. ie salaries are paid untaxed (though in contrast, social security contributions are removed at source, and the latter take almost as large a slice of our income as income tax), and tax returns for the year only have to be submitted by the end of May the following year. And it's possible to pay the tax for one year in a single lump sum, the deadline for which isn't until the end of September. Though there are also options to pay in 3 installments spread between March and September, or in 10 'monthly' installments. All very complicated. There was talk before the election of moving to a pay as you earn system, as in the UK, but that requires figuring out how to handle the changeover year, notably whether everybody in France gets one year 'tax-free', so it remains to be seen whether it ever happens.
They have made things slightly easier in recent years, at least for people on a regular salary, by introducing 'pré-remplit' tax returns. ie the forms arrive in our letter box, partly filled in with name, address, etc, and one's taxable income for the year, which is provided to the tax authorities by one's employer. All of which makes it fairly simple to fill out. In fact, we really only have one other figure to fill in - total income from bank account interest. And if we do it online we don't even need to provided the documentary evidence that's required if it's done with a paper form. Marvelous. Though of course we do have to keep the documents available in case the authorities decided to check. Our advisor told us this was unlikely though. Ho hum...
10 avril 2008
Ranting and raving
That was me on Tuesday evening; screaming at the TV, thumping the furniture, cursing luck, the ref and everything else. Fortunately la bienheureuse was in Germany so did not witness a deranged lunatic running round the apartment. I've almost calmed down now. Just one question remains: what have referees got against Arsenal? The sequence of bad decisions over the last two months is surely more than just bad luck. The joke before the game went that Arsenal didn't want it to go to penalties because the ref wouldn't have given them any, but maybe it was no joke...?
07 avril 2008
Stalemates and hold-ups
I endured (in many senses) a mixed five day trip across La Manche. Leaving la bienheureuse in the midst of a stressful 3 days as principal organiser of a conference at work, I arrived at Stansted mid afternoon Wednesday, was picked up by gooner con-frère JW en route to the Mecca in N5, and watched part 1 of a 3 part trilogy in 6 days. Result: another stalemate thanks to a Dutch ref blind to his compatriot's faults and a Dane putting his foot in instead of taking it out.
Up early on Thursday morning for a 4 hour, 3 train cross country journey to Cheshire (1st train on time, 2nd 10 minutes late, 3rd 35 minutes late), to spend 24 hours chez frère numèro 3. Pleasant football-free break, despite les nièces preferring, as teenagers do, to spend time with friends rather than their aged uncle. Les neveux more than made up though, despite GP suffering the after-effects of discovering that head-butting the bunk bed ladder wasn't such a good idea. I should say almost football-free; ended the trip with an enjoyable hour in the park playing football and basketball.
Thence back to Cambridge via a 2-train, 4.5 hour journey (both trains on time, British railway miracles do occur), kindly picked up by J&C at the station in time for an evening of beer and curry.
The three of us then set off on Saturday morning for AFC-LFC part 2. Or so we thought. Three miles past Stansted the M11 ground to a complete halt. Eventually, with sinking hearts, we heard some traffic news on the radio telling us that an accident just short of the M25 at 8.30am had closed the motorway, and that traffic was being diverted off at Stansted. ie the junction we'd just passed.
It was now 1130, the match kicked off at 1245 and it would have normally taken nearly 75 minutes to complete the journey to the stadium. Not looking good in other words. So it proved. Two hours later it was half-time, Les Cannoniers were 1-0 down, and we were still on the motorway. We were however moving, albeit with the novel experience of traveling northbound on the southbound carriageway. Yup, the police were clearing the jam from the rear by turning everybody round.
Being cynical, I suspected that the decision to close the motorway was delayed for 3 hours in order to park all that spare traffic, which would otherwise have clogged all the minor roads in Herts & Essex, causing possible gridlock. Nice, big, convenient car-park, 15 miles of the triple-lane M11. Makes me an even stronger proponent of the French system of tolls on all autoroutes. Not only does it reduce traffic, but it pays for dedicated radio channels which carry accurate traffic info every 15 minutes and traffic condition signing which is also up to date. I know some British motorways have traffic info signs, but the M11 ain't one of them.
Anyway, rant over. We got back to base in time to watch the last 25 frustrating minutes on TV. 1-1 draw number three. Let's hope Tuesday doesn't make it 4...
The day was redeemed, in part at least, by a typically delicious dinner, cooked by le maitre cuisinier, and two bottles of nice wine. A lazy Sunday followed, punctuated by snow showers and a partially cheering viewing of the match from Teeside. To complete a better day I got a lift to airport, and was met this end by la bienheureuse, truly the sainted one. The reunion, alas was brief. She's off to Germany tonight on another 2 day business trip...
Up early on Thursday morning for a 4 hour, 3 train cross country journey to Cheshire (1st train on time, 2nd 10 minutes late, 3rd 35 minutes late), to spend 24 hours chez frère numèro 3. Pleasant football-free break, despite les nièces preferring, as teenagers do, to spend time with friends rather than their aged uncle. Les neveux more than made up though, despite GP suffering the after-effects of discovering that head-butting the bunk bed ladder wasn't such a good idea. I should say almost football-free; ended the trip with an enjoyable hour in the park playing football and basketball.
Thence back to Cambridge via a 2-train, 4.5 hour journey (both trains on time, British railway miracles do occur), kindly picked up by J&C at the station in time for an evening of beer and curry.
The three of us then set off on Saturday morning for AFC-LFC part 2. Or so we thought. Three miles past Stansted the M11 ground to a complete halt. Eventually, with sinking hearts, we heard some traffic news on the radio telling us that an accident just short of the M25 at 8.30am had closed the motorway, and that traffic was being diverted off at Stansted. ie the junction we'd just passed.
It was now 1130, the match kicked off at 1245 and it would have normally taken nearly 75 minutes to complete the journey to the stadium. Not looking good in other words. So it proved. Two hours later it was half-time, Les Cannoniers were 1-0 down, and we were still on the motorway. We were however moving, albeit with the novel experience of traveling northbound on the southbound carriageway. Yup, the police were clearing the jam from the rear by turning everybody round.
Being cynical, I suspected that the decision to close the motorway was delayed for 3 hours in order to park all that spare traffic, which would otherwise have clogged all the minor roads in Herts & Essex, causing possible gridlock. Nice, big, convenient car-park, 15 miles of the triple-lane M11. Makes me an even stronger proponent of the French system of tolls on all autoroutes. Not only does it reduce traffic, but it pays for dedicated radio channels which carry accurate traffic info every 15 minutes and traffic condition signing which is also up to date. I know some British motorways have traffic info signs, but the M11 ain't one of them.
Anyway, rant over. We got back to base in time to watch the last 25 frustrating minutes on TV. 1-1 draw number three. Let's hope Tuesday doesn't make it 4...
The day was redeemed, in part at least, by a typically delicious dinner, cooked by le maitre cuisinier, and two bottles of nice wine. A lazy Sunday followed, punctuated by snow showers and a partially cheering viewing of the match from Teeside. To complete a better day I got a lift to airport, and was met this end by la bienheureuse, truly the sainted one. The reunion, alas was brief. She's off to Germany tonight on another 2 day business trip...
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