It turned out to be a very warm, sunny and pleasant weekend in the Auvergne. I drove over on Friday afternoon to join la bienheureuse in the spa town of Vichy, more famous as the home of the collaborationist French world war 2 government. Few wartime traces remain, save a couple of impressive paintball bruises collected by la bienheureuse during service to the company.
A short stroll round the centre confirmed the town's eagerness to forget the past and promote itself as a health treatment and cure centre based around its several thermal springs.
Another short stroll in the evening unearthed a splendid restaurant behind the opera house - le Brasserie de l'Opéra did one of the best steak & foie gras I've ever eaten.
A longer stroll on Saturday took us round the main thermal springs, vieux Vichy and then along the opposite bank of the Allier river. Time for a recovery cool-down and wallow in the hotel pool before dining out again. After considering other options, we ended up in... the Brasserie de l'Opéra. Can't have too much of a good thing, and the fish was almost as good as the meat.
We took a roundabout route home on Sunday, driving south towards Clermont-Ferrand to visit the Puy de Dôme. Eventually figured out we could pay 6 euros and drive up to the top, allowing a more or less leisurely circit around the peak, and time to spend a diverting half hour watching paragliders launch themselves into the void in search of thermals.
Thence home via a scenic route across the Monts Lyonnais, missing a minor accident (no casualties) by a few seconds and gaining a couple of punnets of juicy cherries in time to watch les espagnols end the wait. Lyon still steaming hot. Respite promised on Thursday...
From the ridiculous to the sublime. First 2 weeks in June, cloud, rain & temperatures more worthy of April. 3rd weekend in June, blazing sunshine, a sweltering 33C. We've now had over a week of hot, sunny weather. Long may the sunshine continue, though preferably with temperatures a few degrees lower.
Fairly quiet week since our return from the Côte d'Azur - been too hot to do much. With less football to watch (apart from marvelling over the Fabulous spanish number 10) and only a row over government censorship of state television to distract me, I've even buckled down to a decent writing stint...
Not all work though, another short break coming up though. A last minute decision to spend the weekend in Vichy means we get to see a different part of France. La bienheureuse has been there since yesterday morning on a work 'bonding' trip, and I'm driving across after lunch to join her for two nights. Be interesting to visit the centre of collaborationist France...
A lot of polemique in France at the moment, as usual stirred up by Monsieur le Président. A couple of months ago a government commission recommended the withdrawal of advertising from the state television channels. Up until now they've been funded in much the same way as private channels. The recommendation created enough furore on its own, but yesterday Sarkozy announced that he was accepting the commission's report and further that it would be him who would have the sole responsibility of appointing the head of France Television, instead of an independent body.
Cries of foul, from every opposition politician, union leader and most of the independent media, comparing him to the Berlusconi monopoly and control of the Italian media, and raising the spectre of state propoganda and censorship. The government claims scrapping advertising will lead to a more innovative state television slanted towards public service, but the more cynical view is that it will only increase advertising revenues for the private TV channels, notably TF1, France Television's main rival, owned & run by a close chum of Sarko's. There was a related row earlier this month when Patrick Poivre D'Arvor, the doyen of newsreaders, was effectively sacked from TF1's evening news, which he's presented for the last 20 years. PPDA (the French love their acronyms) allegedly upset Sarko during an interview when he compared the president to a little boy. Fatal error...
The annual La Favière gastronomic diving extravaganza, mark VII, can only be described as another resounding success. Ten dives, profuse marine life, weather that improved as the week went on, good food and fine wine aplenty, a convivial 8-strong, 6 diver bunch - a holiday that's hard to beat. It all started on Friday evening...
The denny-boy arrives an hour late in Lyon, but in time for a quiet dinner for three. Pick up newly serviced regulators on Saturday morning, set off on the four and a half hour drive down south. Pick up keys to the apartments and install ourselves. Receive text from Scottish threesome telling of 2 hour flight delay, so it's another quiet dinner for 3, though this time quayside on the Côte d'Azur, in the open air. Finish eating in time for la bienheureuse to collect the Cambridge pair from Hyères airport, while we hold the fort to await the wigs arrival. Eventually all eight are reunited, and a magnum of Coteaux du Tricastin is nearly polished off.
Diving rustiness and expectation of first night hangovers means only the afternoon dive on Sunday is scheduled. Pleasant little pootle in the lee of Cap Benat beneath the now Russian owned former Luc Besson residence. More noisy meal for 8 in the Brasserie du Port, rating 7 on the JeB soupe de poisson scale.
La Gabinière, jewel in the Port Cros scenic crown, is on the agenda for Monday morning. JeB cries off with blocked ears, and the soggydiver cries "too much swimming!".
The more modest attraction of la Formigue in the afternoon, enjoyable nonetheless, even if I get stuck with Eduardo the non-professional Italian photographer. Cartoon beach restaurant for the evening meal, a startling 9 on the JeB SdP scale, though the entrecôtes drag down the overall dinner score.
Tuesday morning, first wreck of the week, Le Grec, means that JeB is dragged into the water. Lovely dive, highlight a soggy screaming to alert everyone to a passing Mola Mola. Less lovely is the sight of JeB's blood & sinal fluid filled mask at the end. La galère in the afternoon, by name of site and by description of dive. The gardening builder and I start off being accompanied by Eduardo, but immediately manage to pass him on to la bienheureuse and the denny-boy. Dinner at la Rade, chosen for proximity to TV screen at neighbouring café. No soupe de poisson, no score, no more Euro 2008 for our hosts.
Dive deep, dive wrecks is the motto for Wednesday. JeB (still leaking nasal blood) and Simon take advantage of the two 50m dives on offer, the barge aux congres and the Wildcat, la bienheureuse and I do the former in the somewhat disconcerting company of Eduardo - dancing with congers and a strange plongeur italien. Soggy & the under-qualified gardiner stick to plants and animals on the Pointe de Montremian. The four of us then complete an hour long full circuit of la Formigue in the afternoon. "Not so much swimming after all!"
Stroll over to Le Lavandou for dinner, soupe de poisson score 8, top score from Mlle H for the proprietor, but there's no beating marvellous Mirko for the diving girls.
Hooray, it's the Donator on Thursday, last dive with videographer Greg on the boat. Great dive, no-one gets stuck with Eduardo 'cos he's gone home. The gardiner is sadly leaving too, so the rest of us use taking him to the airport as an excuse to do some above water sightseeing for a change. Summer has now well and truly arrived, unbroken sunshine and thermometer touching 30. We go from the airport to the old town of Hyères, via an unscheduled detour to a carpark which seems to be but a figment of the soggy satnav's imagination. 
Another pretty, mediaeval Provençal town, with a ruined chateau looking down from the top of the hill. Soggy and listless in the heat, only three of us set off on the climb to the top, only one arrives. Still, the view was lovely. Occupants of apartment 39 carry on to Bormes les Mimosas, in search of thank-you-for-letting-me-come-diving gift for the better half of denny, left at home holding the baby. Mission accomplished.
Return to le Port de Bormes in time for dinner with the cowgirl lady at le Winch. Eat far too much foie gras and duck, so not too disappointing that the fondant au chocolat is no such thing. Nobody has soupe de poisson.
Sweltering, scenic Friday. La Gabinière in the morning, not entirely enjoyed by yours truly due to a strange regression to uncontrollable buoyancy, novice diver. All is explained on return to port when I discover my cylinder was nearly 4kg lighter than normal. Had much more fun in the afternoon, correctly weighted at la pointe de Montremian, drag the soggydiver out to the pinnacle to see the giant scorpion fish and hermit crab. Alas, it's the last dive of the week. Alack and alas, also the last restaurant dinner of the week, a return to la Brasserie du Port.
Lie in till eight on Saturday morning, spend a couple of hours cleaning before the lass from the agency returns to check the state we've left the apartments in. She hands over the 800 euro security cheque with no quibbles. A final drink in the café, a wander round the Saturday market, and then we all go our separate ways. La bienheureuse & I drop the denny-boy off at St Exupèry in plenty of time for his 7pm flight home, and that's the end of another fab La Fav week.
La bienheureuse is in allemagne again, giving my conscience free reign to watch as much football as I like until Friday. 2 or 3 decent games out of 8 so far, perhaps I won't miss it much when she returns on Friday. The form of Les Bleus is just another thing preoccupying La Belle France at the moment...
Not that I'll get to see much of Euro 2008 next week anyway, because we're down south with the usual suspects for the annual Côte d'Azur gastronomy (soupe de poisson, mousse au chocolat & wine)and diving trip. Weather forecast remains iffy. We have just had two days of partial sunshine in Lyon, but the clouds are back today. Oh well, we'll have fun anyway.
Plenty of grumbles in France at the moment - the weather, the price of fuel, the imminent loss of regional car registration plates, the échec de l'équipe de France in their first match, etc, etc...
The weather recently has been unprecedented. May and June can usually be relied on for a good dose of sunshine, the beginning of summer, but since the first few days of last month, we've had five weeks of virtually unremitting cloud and rain, at least in the southern half of the country. Cold too. It's been somewhat topsy-turvy, with the north having had warmer and better weather than the south. The Côte d'Azur tourist industry is complaining about the worst start to the summer season ever.
And then of course, there's the spiraling price of petrol. Or diesel, which is what the majority of voitures run on. Road hauliers, taxi drivers and the like continue to protest, while politicians are trying to put pressure on Total to use some of their obscene profits to cut prices. Fat chance...
Another aspect of motoring in France is also causing much protest at the moment. The registration plate numbering system which includes the departement number, a peculiarity held dear by much of the population, is soon to be phased out. Seems a shame to me too. It's not only kids who indulge in registration plate spotting - there's a 69, fellow lyonnais, and there goes a despised 75, parisien, etc, etc...
And finally, more strikes yesterday, continuing in patches today. Public service & transport unions continuing to complaining about low spending power and job cuts. Mind you, with patchy support and all these other preoccupations, no-one's really taken any notice...
La bienheureuse threw open the curtains this morning and said, "Look! The sun's shining!"
Lo and behold it was. 'Must be my birthday," I thought, though reality and the clouds now appear to be setting in once more...
The weather was not so kind over the weekend. As we drove over the Massif de Bugey on Saturday afternoon, the autoroute was shrouded in mist and drizzle and the car heater was almost on maximum. Things could only get better. And they did.
The mystery destination turned out to be Château Coudrée on the shores of Lac Leman (Lake Geneva), and the rest of the weekend stayed dry, albeit grey.
'Twas the company that made the weekend though. Aahh... Secluded away from the main building in the Chalet Poupée, a dolls house indeed, complete with outsize key, the romantic getaway was made complete by a champagne apéritif, a decidedly delicious meal, and a very nice Bourgogne even if it was almost the cheapest on the menu & about a 20th the cost of the most expensive...
Sunday morning, we made our way home via Yvoire, another pretty though touristy mediaeval village on the shores of the lake.
There was even a brief hint of sunshine as we wandered the cobbled streets and watched two crows harassing a large bird of prey into dropping its catch into the marina. All in all, not a bad way to celebrate growing older...
Cold (barely 16C), wet and gloomy. Last night we watched TV wrapped up in a blanket & this morning I'm contemplating turning the heating back on. The calendar must be lying - it's not really June yet, is it? Ironically the north of France had one of the warmest Mays (albeit also one of the wettest) on record, but you wouldn't have known it further south, where we've had almost a month of unbroken cool, cloudy, damp weather. And no end in sight yet...
Mixed forecast for this weekend, but we'll try our best to ignore the weather. La bienheureuse is taking me on a magical mystery trip in celebration (or perhaps more strictly speaking, in anticipation) of my reaching the 11th semi-perfect age. All I've managed to extract is that it's somewhere in a 2 hour semicircle to the east of Lyon...
Flash floods at all points south, east & west. The tennis at Roland Garros is the traditional harbinger of summer, but the reluctant sunny season is still dragging its feet over making an entry this year. Meanwhile, its been an expensive weekend chez nous. 3 football season tickets purchased (the French pair totaling less the half the English one), and one French tax return duly submitted. Done via internet, the latter task was surprisingly easy & painless.
Socially, the weekend saw a brief reunion with J&C, stopping off overnight at Lyon on the way home from their less than sun-soaked week in Provence. Jazz may have been was sorry to see them go, but I suspect next year's late spring holiday may be in Spain...
They left at 8am this morning, after another splendid (and relatively restrained, alcohol-wise) evening in our favourite local resto, the Poivre d'Ane. Rich food, a nice bottle of Faugères, and a walk home in the rain. Fortunately it's only 100 metres...
Considering we're rarely up before ten on weekend mornings, it could be said that it was our second rude awakening of the weekend. On Saturday morning we were woken at six by a loud crash from the back courtyard. Turned out to be a female neighbour from one of the adjacent buildings throwing things out of the window. A suitcase was followed by several items of clothing. Boyfriend's belongings, we suspect. However, it seems she thought, or was persuaded, better of it, because an hour or so later she & someone else were outside collecting it all up again. Just another domestic drama in Lyon...
