Men in tights

There follows a lesson in keeping a city centre apartment cool in the summer without the aid of air conditioning. Or at least, keeping it at bearable temperatures. There is a point to all this, though you have to skip to the bottom to find it.

1. Open all windows at night, to allow as much cool nighttime air in as possible. Doesn't help much if there is no breeze, as has been the case recently.
2. As soon as the sun starts shining in through the windows, close them and and close the shutters or lower the blinds.
3. Keep closed until late afternoon when the sun no longer falls directly onto them.
4. Open the windows again in the evening as soon as the temperature outside is lower than inside. Which at the moment isn't until bedtime.

Anyway, there I was, late afternoon yesterday, slaving away in a sauna-like study in front of a hot computer (heat generated by the friction of fingers as I melt the keyboard in a creative frenzy of writing)... Ok, stretching artistic licence a bit there, but what follows is true...

I was raising the blinds to let in more light when I was greeted by the sight of a man, leaning out of a window opposite, smoking a fag. Not an unusual sight you may say, but the image is made unsavoury by the fact that he was dressed only in underpants and a pair of stockings. Not the sort of view one dreams of having from one's front window. And before you ask, definitely male (30ish), definitely stockings (black nylon). Ahem, not that I dared look closely.

To add to the intriguing scenario, the window in question is equipped with what look like dark red satin curtains. I shall refrain from speculating about what was going on in there...

Le Tour des berges

A remarkably uneventful week, if that's not an oxymoron, in a warm and mostly sunny city. The lyonnais bourgeoisie gradually desert town for their vacances in July, though it's not until the first couple of weeks in August that the population reaches a seasonal nadir.

Not a lot to report on the home front either. Been writing steadily, if not prolifically, over the last few weeks, book number 3 now about 75% finished, la bienheureuse hasn't travelled abroad for 3 whole weeks, and most of the voisins are on holiday. Most exciting event of the weekend was a cycle ride along the river yesterday morning before it got too hot, having had a teetotal Saturday because of the after-effects of a half-bottle of wine each on Friday evening. White wine, too, we are becoming lightweights, alcoholically speaking.

Anyway, we did the full tour - north along the berges du Rhône as far as the bridge over the périphérique, and then all the way back as far south as the Parc du Gerland, then home. Total distance covered, about 22km. Might not sound like much, but to cycle-rusty legs and bums, it was.

Meanwhile, cyclists on a somewhat different level, planet even, came to the end of their 3 week trip round France. Le Tour 2008 is being seen as somewhat transitional, with the battle against the drug cheats seemingly being slowly won, and the old guard, brought up in an era where pharmaceutical aid was rife, superceded by the new, clean generation. So they say... There was plenty of suspense, right up until the penultimate stage, if only because there was no single dominant rider, but it seemed to me somewhat lacking in real drama...

Daft dogs & a wooden anniversary

A frustrating and interesting day last Friday. Trudging round town in search (ultimately fruitful if not entirely successful) of a suitable cadeau en bois, I happened upon a minor stir as I crossed the footbridge near home. A handful of people were watching a dog which had jumped into the river only to find itself unable to get out. It was in no danger, but couldn't scramble up onto the raised embankment just under the bridge. At that moment a police launch went past and someone attracted its attention.

Thus the rescue operation was launched. A policewoman donned waders, was dropped off into the shallow water around the end of the bridge, and eventually succeeded in luring the stupid animal round the side were there were some steps. Of its owner there was no sign, though it sported a collar and lead, but a bystander apparently offered to look after it in some way. Presumably he either knew the owner or took it to a shelter or dog pound, or took it home himself...

Second dumb dog I've seen in the river in recent weeks. The previous one had jumped in chasing a stick, been carried by the current past the slipway and been unable to swim back. Its owner was in attendance, but
I didn't hang around on that occasion to watch the denouement...

The following day we drove to the Auvergne again, for a short weekend away to celebrate reaching a wooden milestone. A night and a meal in a hotel in the Mont Dore ski resort was preceded by a long drive across the middle of the Massif Central. Taking the scenic route seemed a good idea at the time, and indeed, from the point of view of scenery on offer it was, but the 6 hour journey time wasn't. However, we still got there in time for a short stroll, and the pleasant evening weather encouraged us to take the télépherique up towards the highest point in the Massif Central, the Puy de Sancy the following morning.

Unfortunately the weather in the morning wasn't quite so nice. We reached the top cable car station in billowing mist, which was being blown across the top of the mountain in intermittent, swirling clouds by a howling wind. There were however, occasional breaks, and well, we were there, so we decided to climb the wooden staircase right to the top, despite being singularly ill-prepared for such a venture - sandals & light trainers respectively, shorts and a single light cardigan between us.



The video above gives some idea of conditions, but nonetheless we got to the top, waited 10 minutes in vain for a clear patch, then trudged back down again. Ten minutes later the summit was clear, and the weather stayed sunny for the rest of the day. Sod's law. Still, enjoyed a very pleasant stroll down, and drove home along roads newly surfaced in honour of the Tour de France, via a stop in St Nectaire to visit a church and a grotto. Took the autoroute back and halved the journey time...

Fêtes, Floods and Fireworks

The promised thunderstorms arrived on Friday, including one downpour with hailstones the size of grapes and minor flooding in the apartment. The rain was so heavy it got in through closed windows, first time I've seen that happen, though I suspect it was due to the shutter casings channeling water onto the window frame...

Two days of cool, occasionally damp weather followed, but the sun reappeared in celebration of the Fête Nationale on 14 juillet. We strolled out to watch the annual fireworks display atop Fourvière, though it was somewhat less spectacular than the extravaganza in Paris which followed a free concert on the Champ de Mars in front of 600 thousand people and was also in celebration of Quebec's 400th birthday.

Traditionally 14 july is also the day when a Frenchman tries to win the day's stage in the Tour de France. Yesterday was no exception, but a valiant attempt over two hors catégorie climbs was foiled by circumstances - a couple of the main contenders cracked on the famous Col du Tourmalet, which meant the other leading riders pushed as hard as possible to distance their rivals. Made for an interesting day though, and commentators here are gripped by what is turning out to be the most unpredictable race in years.

Orange storms, black Saturday

Second big weekend of the summer on the roads coming, the first to be marked black on the French scale of classifying road conditions - green, orange, red, black. In fact it's red elsewhere Friday & Saturday, but black tomorrow in the Rhône valley as half of France streams south to the Mediterranean beaches for their two weeks in the sun.

At least the vacanciers might have cooler conditions tomorrow. There's an orange alert in the Rhône department today, warning of thunderstorms, which should cool things down. La bienheureuse was on an overnight trip to Germany on Tues & Weds, acting as referee between feuding locals, where it was cold & wet, but was greeted on her return by a couple of days of hot and heavy sunshine. Have to say it has so far been a changeable summer...

It has been a quiet, steady writing week on the home front, enlivened by the Tour de France and some fireworks on the political stage. The surprising prominence of Brits in le tour was followed by the first 'medium' mountain stage in the Massif Centrale, while Ségolène and Sarko (or more accurately Sarko's minions) have been reprising their battles of a year ago. Plus ça change...

Adieu PPDA, rebonjour Ségolène

Entertaining political week in France. Mme Royale has been in the headlines upsetting Monsieur le Président and his supporters, first asserting that Sarkozy had nothing to do with Ingrid Betancourt's release, and then linking a recent break-in at her flat (the 3rd in 2 years where nothing was taken) with the 'clan Sarkozy'. Cue a parade of minions from the premier ministre downwards opining that Ségo had 'lost control', 'sunk to new level of pathetic stupidity', or 'like all other victims of crime, has a right to psychological help'.

Elsewhere, in Strasbourg, Sarkozy was taken to task for his decision to attend the opening ceremony of the Olympics in Beijing by the French Green MEP, Daniel Cohn-Bendit in a quite marvellous rant in the European parliament. Choice phrases include (rough tranlation): 'the more repressive the Chinese authorities get, the lower we bow before them... Monsieur Sarkozy will be given a nice dinner with baguettes in Pekin, exchange hugs & kisses and say "here you are, here's 3 nuclear power stations, 36 TGVs, and I don't know what else..." It's squalid!'

And finally, last night saw l'adieu de Patrick Poivre d'Arvor, former king of French television newsreaders, dethroned, according to himself and others, for having treated Sarko like a little boy live on TV. Wearing a suitably funereal black tie and jacket, he unemotionally read the news until his final words during which he quoted Shakespeare: "That which cannot be eschewed must be embraced."

A man with a 'colourful' past, PPDA. Father at the age of 15, first book (of over 30) published at 16 (1.5m copies sold), affair with a fellow newsreader which produced his 6th & youngest child more than 30 years after his first, conviction for fraud ten years ago, and so on...

World heritage up our street

The man our road is named after has just had 12 of his creations named as world heritage sites by Unesco. Vauban built a series of fortifications for Louis XIV in the 17th century, all around France, at places such as Briançon, Besançon and Arras. Several along the Channel and Atlantic coasts were intended as defences against the English. Won't stop us living here though...

On another cultural front, Lyon is revving up for its attempt to become the European city of culture for 2013. During an otherwise quiet weekend, we went to the cinema on Saturday, had dinner afterwards (French cuisine being another aspect of their culture that the French are trying to get named as part of world heritage, with Lyon put forward as the prime example), and then strolled home through the park, stumbling on an open air concert which was part of the effort to promote Lyon and its cultural heritage.

Meanwhile the French president continues his efforts to destroy that other French cultural tradition, striking. He caused a minor furore a couple of days ago, quipping during a self-congratulatory speech to UMP party loyalists about his attempts to remould French society, that "nobody notices now when there's a strike in France." Somewhat stretching the truth, I feel...

In the heat of the night...

11pm last night, France in a fever of excitement over the liberation of Ingrid Betancourt and other hostages, me sweating in bed because it's a humid 30C inside the apartment. 4.45am this morning, we're awoken by the lovely sound of thunder and rain. The promised respite has arrived, all the windows are open and the temperature indoors has dropped 7 degrees. Still very humid though...

The heat inspired us to sample the outdoor piscine du Rhône on Tuesday evening, for the first time in six and a half years. A nice, cooling swim, even if the pool was crowded with thousands of other lyonnais with the same idea, and the changing rooms full of noisy jeunes.