La saison des grèves

C'est l'automne. Strike season has arrived in France. Air France pilots have just finished a 4 day stoppage to protest against retirement reforms (notably allowing them to carry on till they're 65), which we've been watching somewhat nervously as we're off on holiday in two days. And later this week, railway workers, teachers and postmen are all due to go on strike.

Meanwhile, having lost his court case against the firm selling voodoo dolls in his image (appeal pending), Sarkozy is as busy as usual elsewhere, saving the world financial system, chuckling at the Socialists failure to choose a new leader, gloating about the fact the France's economy is not in recession (thanks to huge growth of all of 0.1% in the last quarter), arresting the Eta leader in the French Basque country and comforting les proches of a French MP who has just killed his lover and then himself. Ok, perhaps not all of that, but where there's credit to be taken, he'll claim it...

Mixed and missed matches

Highs and lows. After the social excitement of last weekend, a quieter Saturday and Sunday just gone. A minor trek around the pubs and bars of Lyon on Saturday eventually turned up one showing the relevant game of the round football variety, rather that the sundry egg-chasing internationals elsewhere. Wish I hadn't bothered.

My French team of choice fared rather better last night, despite being overrun for most of the game by Bordeaux. Two first half goals were enough to hold out during a second half seige. The visitors got one back late on but it wasn't enough to overcome the sort of performance French commentators somewhat euphemistically call a 'très realiste'.

The novelty for me was going to the game with one of our neighbours, rather than la bienheureuse (who jetted off in the afternoon on yet another business trip - York rather than Monnheim for a change). It arose after Madame engaged me in a conversation about football a couple of weeks ago, and told me her husband would welcome the chance to go to a match with us. As it happens that's problematic as we're season ticket holders with fixed places, but I said if one of us wasn't going he'd be welcome to use the spare ticket. Nice to get to know at least one of les voisins a bit better. Only taken 6 years...

Wining, ducking and dining

The weekend trip across La Manche turned out to be as enjoyable as expected and more. The excuse for turning it into something of a celebration was l'anniversaire de la bienheureuse, even if it is still more than a month away.

The eating and drinking got off to an auspicious start on Friday evening, with a Cambridge-based group visit to the Rice Boat, a highly recommended Kerala restaurant in Newnham. Excellent curry and too much wine resulted in a hangover on Saturday morning, but that was soon cured by watching the footballing gods restore right to the world with the defeat of the evil red empire by the patched up red and white forces of beautiful football.

Thence to Central London to meet up with more friends, principally from la bienheureuse's time in Canterbury. First stop Vinopolis, with a guided tour given by une belle portugaise followed by an excellent meal at the in-house restaurant Cantina, and more drinks in a riverside pub. Good wine, good food and a gin cocktail - what more perfect night out is there?

A rather more judicious intake of wine resulted in a somewhat clearer head on Sunday for the duck tour. Not the winged, webbed footed variety in park ponds, but an amphibious landing craft painted bright yellow and used as a vehicle for a tour on both land and water. The best bit of course was the splash down the ramp into the river.

After a late lunch on the South Bank, next stop was Bexleyheath for overnight lodging chez les bons docteurs C, entertainment provided by the tireless J-Z double act and sparklers in the rain. Monday, after le fils ainé was gently persuaded to forsake our bed for a trip to school, we spent a typical Sunday morning watching DVDs and the driving rain outside while the JezDoctor worked upstairs. Then it was off to Gatwick for a delayed flight back home.

Winning and wining

Another day, another routine 2-0 victory for OL last night, against the team they beat with somewhat greater difficulty in an 8 goal thriller in Bucharest two weeks ago. A point in their next game against Fiorentina will be enough for qualification, but a loss would throw it up in the air again.

More football and wine in prospect this weekend, with a trip to Blighty, a game at the new home of football against the evil red empire (can't say I'm entirely looking forward to that), and a couple of evenings out with friends in early celebration of la bienheureuse's completion of four decades. Saturday evening is another wine tasting evening, which may leave a few thick heads for the tour on a duck the next day...

Wine, chocolate and a nightmare prolonged

Highly enjoyable weekend, in all ways but one. Friday evening, JeB and the Soggy Doctor are due to arrive late on, mobile phone beeps: text message saying they won't make it till Saturday morning. Turns out to be a complicated story involved a late connecting flight, forgotten passport and needlessly checked-in luggage, none of which on their own would have been a problem, but in combination proved fatal. Seems J&S, BA and flights to Lyon are not a happy mix. Heureusement, they catch the early flight the next morning and are here by ten-thirty, to be whisked straight from the airport to the wine fair.

Four hours of tasting and purchasing later, we arrive back at the flat loaded with 14 cases of wine, nearly half for the annual Meribel ski trip, I hasten to add. There my mood is darkened by events in a far-off stadium, but recovers during the course of a characteristically convivial evening. Canard à la JeB et tarte tatin washed down by a couple of the afternoon's purchases.

The gastronomic weekend continues on Sunday with a stroll through the park to a chocolate festival, which needless to say, includes a stall selling chocolate wine. The Chocoholic amazingly resists making any purchases. Stroll back in lovely autumn sunshine, belying the floods elsewhere in the region, admiring the animals in the zoo en route.

Guests safely deposited at the airport, we just about manage to summon up the energy to trek out to Stade Gerland where OL manage a competent victory to stay 4 points clear at the top. Torrential rain during the game threatens to drench us, but stops in time for the trip home.

And this morning, needless to say again, la bienheureuse is in Germany again while I attempt to stick to a self-imposed deadline to finish roman numéro trois by the time we jet off to tropical waters in two weeks. Hmm, better get down to it...