We're enjoying a lovely sunny period in Lyon at the moment. Almost springlike. Evelyne the weather girl told us last night that it's only fitting, with the metereological end of winter tomorrow. Whatever that is. Actually, she did explain. The French tend to say winter starts on the winter solstice, spring on the spring equinox, and so on. Which has always seemed a bit skewed to me. And Evelyne confirmed last night that the coldest months are December, January and February. Therefore winter ends tomorrow.
Only other non-event of note to report is that I didn't receive an email inviting me to undergo psychometric testing. Therefore I'm not going to make the shortlist for the best job in the world. Ah well, best get back to the writing then...
27 février 2009
25 février 2009
Same old, same old...
Five days in Blighty, temporarily abandoning la bienheureuse for the other, more contrary, love of my life. A game typical of the season on Saturday, league opposition camped in their own half, lack of inspiration to break them down, and failure to take the few opportunities that did appear. Last night, more adventurous European opposition, slightly tweaked formation, and much more inspiration. Still the same old failure to put the chances away though. Still, hope springs eternal, injured heroes to return in coming weeks, things can only get better...
Been a slightly different trip to normal. Flew in and out of Gatwick, spent a night either end in London chez the McBhoy, the Peacebird and a whingeing moggy. Entertainment from local drunks in the pub on Friday. The Cambridge interlude followed a familiar story. Minor Meribel reunion in the pub on Saturday, ate too much, drank relatively sensibly but still nursing minor remnant of previous night. Sunday chose what I thought might be the the quieter option, lunch chez le Chef and Mlle Beaucoup where they were entertaining friends. Wrong. Long lunch amply watered by numerous bouteilles de vin finished at around 7.30pm... Strangely, felt fine on Monday. Quiet meal in the curry house that evening with JeB and the Margarita man, followed by a mere half in a dead pub.
A change this trip has been the ability to work while away. No, really. We've invested in a netbook, which has allowed me to carry on rewriting, instead of twiddling thumbs between matches...
Been a slightly different trip to normal. Flew in and out of Gatwick, spent a night either end in London chez the McBhoy, the Peacebird and a whingeing moggy. Entertainment from local drunks in the pub on Friday. The Cambridge interlude followed a familiar story. Minor Meribel reunion in the pub on Saturday, ate too much, drank relatively sensibly but still nursing minor remnant of previous night. Sunday chose what I thought might be the the quieter option, lunch chez le Chef and Mlle Beaucoup where they were entertaining friends. Wrong. Long lunch amply watered by numerous bouteilles de vin finished at around 7.30pm... Strangely, felt fine on Monday. Quiet meal in the curry house that evening with JeB and the Margarita man, followed by a mere half in a dead pub.
A change this trip has been the ability to work while away. No, really. We've invested in a netbook, which has allowed me to carry on rewriting, instead of twiddling thumbs between matches...
19 février 2009
Nice work if you can get it...
Shocking news. I've applied for a job. The best job in the world, apparently.
Quelle chance of being picked out of twenty odd thousand applicants so far? Very little I fear...
Rate it here. 5 stars compulsory!
Meanwhile I shall console myself with another trip across La Manche to take in a couple of football matches at the best stadium in the world. Back to the real world?
Quelle chance of being picked out of twenty odd thousand applicants so far? Very little I fear...
Meanwhile I shall console myself with another trip across La Manche to take in a couple of football matches at the best stadium in the world. Back to the real world?
Grèves, émeutes et évasions
Almost too much news in France at the moment. Current main headline is the civil unrest in the Antilles, which pushed another national broadcast last night by Sarkozy further down the front page. Earlier in the week it was a violent and audacious prison break which dominated news bulletins.
Sarko's pre-recorded prime time broadcast last night was his second of the month. The first was a marathon two and a half hour question and answer session with four journalists from the main TV and radio channels to respond to the financial and social crisis that is gripping France, much like the rest of the world. It was something of a tour de force, but did little to ease fears. Last night was a mere ten minute, straight to camera address, intended address criticism that he'd announced little in the way of concrete action the previous time. Various measures to help the less well off and struggling small businesses were announced, but few think it's enough...
Monsieur le Président also only made a passing mention of the crisis some think should be top of the political agenda at the moment. France's Caribbean départements are in a state of near breakdown at the moment. There's been a general strike in Guadaloupe for nearly a month now, and recently the situation has deteriorated into riots which came to a head yesterday when a union official was shot and killed by protestors as he tried to turn round at a road block. Meanwhile there is also now a general strike in Martinique, and Guyane is looking like heading down the same road.
It's all about the high cost and low standard of living in the Antilles. The protestors claim that a small, white elite originating from mainland France hold a financial stranglehold on the islands, and maintain a cartel which keeps prices artificially high. It's certainly true that the cost of living there (as we saw first hand in St Martin) is much higher than in the Métropole. This morning François Fillon, the Premier Ministre, announced a 200 euro monthly supplement to low wage earners. It remains to be seen whether that's enough...
On a slightly lighter note, jailbreaks in France seem to be a favourite past time and preoccupation of French criminals. There was a recent popular film about Jacques Mésrine, public enemy number one in the sixties and seventies, who escaped several times from prison, and while on the run attempted to break some of his cronies out of another jail. After numerous bank robberies, murders and kidnappings he was eventually killed while evading capture in Paris in 1979.
The latest to try and emulate him were two major criminals who managed to escape from Moulins prison by blowing up the door of the visiting room and taking two guards hostage on the way out. Despite crashing on the autoroute shortly afterwards, and being chased by two helicopters and sundry police vehicles, they somehow managed to evade capture by busting through the toll barriers. They later released the guards, commandeered another car and took the occupants hostage. Another car and hostage swap later, they were finally captured after two days on the run in a shoot out on another autoroute near Paris. One of them received two bullets in the chest for his pains, and his girlfriend has just been arrested on charges of supplying them with explosives.
Not all prison breaks are successful though. A high security prison in south west has just claimed to have foiled an elaborate attempt by a couple of Corsican mafia members to escape using a helicopter and a massive steel box which was designed to shield them from prison guard and police bullets. A French criminal hasn't made it unless he's at least attempted to break out of gaol.
Life in Lyon seems quiet in comparison...
Sarko's pre-recorded prime time broadcast last night was his second of the month. The first was a marathon two and a half hour question and answer session with four journalists from the main TV and radio channels to respond to the financial and social crisis that is gripping France, much like the rest of the world. It was something of a tour de force, but did little to ease fears. Last night was a mere ten minute, straight to camera address, intended address criticism that he'd announced little in the way of concrete action the previous time. Various measures to help the less well off and struggling small businesses were announced, but few think it's enough...
Monsieur le Président also only made a passing mention of the crisis some think should be top of the political agenda at the moment. France's Caribbean départements are in a state of near breakdown at the moment. There's been a general strike in Guadaloupe for nearly a month now, and recently the situation has deteriorated into riots which came to a head yesterday when a union official was shot and killed by protestors as he tried to turn round at a road block. Meanwhile there is also now a general strike in Martinique, and Guyane is looking like heading down the same road.
It's all about the high cost and low standard of living in the Antilles. The protestors claim that a small, white elite originating from mainland France hold a financial stranglehold on the islands, and maintain a cartel which keeps prices artificially high. It's certainly true that the cost of living there (as we saw first hand in St Martin) is much higher than in the Métropole. This morning François Fillon, the Premier Ministre, announced a 200 euro monthly supplement to low wage earners. It remains to be seen whether that's enough...
On a slightly lighter note, jailbreaks in France seem to be a favourite past time and preoccupation of French criminals. There was a recent popular film about Jacques Mésrine, public enemy number one in the sixties and seventies, who escaped several times from prison, and while on the run attempted to break some of his cronies out of another jail. After numerous bank robberies, murders and kidnappings he was eventually killed while evading capture in Paris in 1979.
The latest to try and emulate him were two major criminals who managed to escape from Moulins prison by blowing up the door of the visiting room and taking two guards hostage on the way out. Despite crashing on the autoroute shortly afterwards, and being chased by two helicopters and sundry police vehicles, they somehow managed to evade capture by busting through the toll barriers. They later released the guards, commandeered another car and took the occupants hostage. Another car and hostage swap later, they were finally captured after two days on the run in a shoot out on another autoroute near Paris. One of them received two bullets in the chest for his pains, and his girlfriend has just been arrested on charges of supplying them with explosives.
Not all prison breaks are successful though. A high security prison in south west has just claimed to have foiled an elaborate attempt by a couple of Corsican mafia members to escape using a helicopter and a massive steel box which was designed to shield them from prison guard and police bullets. A French criminal hasn't made it unless he's at least attempted to break out of gaol.
Life in Lyon seems quiet in comparison...
17 février 2009
Winning again, better late than never
A quiet valentine's day. No flowers, no cards, just a nice meal cooked by ma bien-aimée. C'est moi qui l'a fait ces dernières années, that's my excuse. Then a Sunday almost as quiet. We did venture out twice, once to do a hasty video, then later to the football. Too late as it turned out. On the way to the ground we were a little bemused to be on a metro virtually empty, and certainly devoid of OL fans. Speculation as to whether we'd got the wrong day, wrong time or wrong venue ended as we emerged at Gerland. The match had kicked off half an hour earlier than we'd thought. Than I'd thought. Ho hum...
Anyway, we only missed the first fifteen minutes, and it was still 0-0 when we took our seats. Which was no great surprise because the French league leaders have failed to win a home league game since mid November. Fortunately on Sunday they were playing la lanterne rouge, bottom of the league Le Havre. And it all came good finally with a comfortable 3-1 win.
Almost all good anyway. OL's Nigerian defender John Mensah was sent off after two yellow cards in a second half during which he seemed to be trying to see red. It emerged later that he probably was, and had asked to be taken off at half time because he'd been upset by racist taunts by a sprinkling of the handful of Le Havre 'fans'. One of them was arrested and charged, the latest in a spate of incidents in French stadia this season...
Yesterday, while la bienheureuse was away in Germany, it was the turn of my true équipe de coeur to get back on the winning track. And for a change I got a chance to watch it at home, with France Televisions having the rights to the FA Cup this year. Highly gratifying, all in all...
Anyway, we only missed the first fifteen minutes, and it was still 0-0 when we took our seats. Which was no great surprise because the French league leaders have failed to win a home league game since mid November. Fortunately on Sunday they were playing la lanterne rouge, bottom of the league Le Havre. And it all came good finally with a comfortable 3-1 win.
Almost all good anyway. OL's Nigerian defender John Mensah was sent off after two yellow cards in a second half during which he seemed to be trying to see red. It emerged later that he probably was, and had asked to be taken off at half time because he'd been upset by racist taunts by a sprinkling of the handful of Le Havre 'fans'. One of them was arrested and charged, the latest in a spate of incidents in French stadia this season...
Yesterday, while la bienheureuse was away in Germany, it was the turn of my true équipe de coeur to get back on the winning track. And for a change I got a chance to watch it at home, with France Televisions having the rights to the FA Cup this year. Highly gratifying, all in all...
13 février 2009
Soggy, snowy weekend
We spent five days back in Blighty last weekend, leaving Lyon in the pouring rain and arriving at a snow blanketed Stansted. Surprisingly, given that the runway was closed for a period in the morning to clear the snow, our flight landed 15 minutes early. An efficiently organised baggage and hire car collection meant we were chez Professor Margarita in Cambridge soon after four, before the master and his dog were even back from their gambol in the snow. The evening ran a familiar course, with a pint or two in the pub followed by a Pipasha curry.
Saturday morning my plan to get a football fix by watching les jeunes cannoniers was flummoxed by the weather, and I had to be content with dropping la bienheureuse off in Cambridge to do some shopping. Later in the afternoon the Wigs arrived, Sogs saying goodbye to southern friends and relatives before she satisfies her wanderlust and heads off to Madadascar or Mozambique, Australia, New Zealand, and parts further afield. The evening was spent in highly enjoyable fashion, dining and wining Italian style at De Lucas with selected other members of the Cambridge clique.
Sunday was family day with a lunchtime trip to another local pub. Big M and a larger than usual lady K made the drive in from their Fenland outpost, while the DenEboy brought his lady and baby all the way up from deepest Berkshire. Only the poorly Ms H was missed. After an afternoon in front of the fire, we had a quiet night in.
Monday JeB and the builder headed off to work, la bienheureuse joined them in spirit, using the Margarita man's internet connection to work from our temporary home and avoid going into the local office. Meanwhile the Soggy girl and I twiddled thumbs, met the other two for lunch in town while la bienheureuse conducted a marathon phone conference. Then we watched daytime TV before I succumbed to moral pressure and gave the Sogwig a lift to the airport. In the evening it was back to eating and drinking, with the builder taking a leaf out of the book of guests maitre-chef JW and mlle Beaucoup by cooking us all a delicious and generously portioned paella.
Tuesday I chauffeured la bienheureuse into the local office for an all-day meeting and then was reduced to going into town to do some window shopping. Finally it was time to pick her up again and after a farewell cup of tea with Professor Margarita and Harry, we headed south to Stansted. A horribly early flight the next morning meant a room in the airport hotel for the night was fully justified. An early night, even earlier rising, another flight on time, and we were back in cold Lyon by ten-thirty.
Saturday morning my plan to get a football fix by watching les jeunes cannoniers was flummoxed by the weather, and I had to be content with dropping la bienheureuse off in Cambridge to do some shopping. Later in the afternoon the Wigs arrived, Sogs saying goodbye to southern friends and relatives before she satisfies her wanderlust and heads off to Madadascar or Mozambique, Australia, New Zealand, and parts further afield. The evening was spent in highly enjoyable fashion, dining and wining Italian style at De Lucas with selected other members of the Cambridge clique.
Sunday was family day with a lunchtime trip to another local pub. Big M and a larger than usual lady K made the drive in from their Fenland outpost, while the DenEboy brought his lady and baby all the way up from deepest Berkshire. Only the poorly Ms H was missed. After an afternoon in front of the fire, we had a quiet night in.
Monday JeB and the builder headed off to work, la bienheureuse joined them in spirit, using the Margarita man's internet connection to work from our temporary home and avoid going into the local office. Meanwhile the Soggy girl and I twiddled thumbs, met the other two for lunch in town while la bienheureuse conducted a marathon phone conference. Then we watched daytime TV before I succumbed to moral pressure and gave the Sogwig a lift to the airport. In the evening it was back to eating and drinking, with the builder taking a leaf out of the book of guests maitre-chef JW and mlle Beaucoup by cooking us all a delicious and generously portioned paella.
Tuesday I chauffeured la bienheureuse into the local office for an all-day meeting and then was reduced to going into town to do some window shopping. Finally it was time to pick her up again and after a farewell cup of tea with Professor Margarita and Harry, we headed south to Stansted. A horribly early flight the next morning meant a room in the airport hotel for the night was fully justified. An early night, even earlier rising, another flight on time, and we were back in cold Lyon by ten-thirty.
03 février 2009
Ski, sun and a star named Coco
Another year, another January, another week of glorious weather and skiing, another seven nights of gourmet self-catering at La Tourterelle...
Sat 24 Jan
The week starts well bar a forgotten coat and house keys on a train at Paddington, and despite the JonE and DenE boys spending too long in the bar at Heathrow. They just manage to board their flight before the doors close, and arrive in Lyon in perfect time for us to pick them up and successfully rendezvous with the Cambridge bus crew for the wine and cheese handover. Le frère arrives in the pouring rain at Part Dieu via Eurostar and TGV, with his other jacket locked in a suitcase with the keys still in London. We queue for a taxi and on arrival chez nous he finds it disconcertingly easy to force the lock.
The wining and dining gets off to an auspicious start with delicious tuna meatballs and a taster or two from the week's carte des vins.
Sun 25 Jan
Once again we manage to cram la petite voiture with five adults, four pairs of ski boots, three pairs of skis and other assorted baggage for a winter's week in the mountains. The precipitation of the previous two days has stopped, the roads are clear of snow for the drive up to Meribel, and we arrive in time for an afternoon's skiing in the sunshine on lovely fresh snow. Les Gooners variously stop early to watch the bore draw with Cardiff.
The Tourterelle onze are more or less reunited in the evening, with Professor Margarita coming in as a late replacement for the la prime J, who wasn't forwarded enough. Le maitre cuisinier gets the gourmandisement going with soupe de chou-fleur and a sublimely palatable Pork in Calvados. The wine cellar and cheese board are attacked with the usual gusto.
Mon 26 Jan
Les deux petite skieuses are up early for their usual pedagogic rendezvous with Super Suzie and Miss J, who this year is staying in a more sedate chalet further up the mountain. The rest of us take rather more time to hit the slopes on a day of mitigated weather, as the French would say. The clouds and the odd flake however don't spoil the enjoyment, and we have some lovely runs in Courchevel 1650 in the morning, before a gradual parting of the ways as we wend our way back to Meribel in the afternoon.
Le gateau choco-banane de la bienheureuse completes a satisfying first day, before the early evening arrival of the real star of the Meribel show, Coco la kino. Physio to la quinze de France, various other rugby teams and Wimbledon tennis players, she becomes our masseuse, osteopathic consultant and body mechanic for the week. JonEboy and the builder-gardener are her first clients. Diagnosis and treatment tally: one mildly twisted knee and poultice, one displaced and replaced shoulder tendon, one torn thumb ligament duly strapped.
The Margarita man then bravely ignores his injured thumb to create his powerful signature cocktail for the rest of us, excepting the author who is still suffering the after effects of the previous two night's drinking. Everybody manages to stagger to the table to enjoy yet another exquisite effort from le grand chef - salmon and horseradish amuses bouches, gnocchi et jambon entrée, rounded off by coconut and salmon laksa, with a bit of unrelated happy slapping as an amusing entre-plats. The cheeseboard is almost an after thought. After dinner JeB subjects a select but brave few to a core strength test which ends with only three men standing, or rather lying, and accusations of cheat flying from certain non-participants.
Tue 27 Jan
An even later start with the usual breakfast entertainment of tinkling on an out of tune piano, but most manage to hit the slopes by ten thirty and have fun on the east and west slopes of la Tougnette. After les filles head off for afternoon lessons, the rest of us gradually go our separate ways.
While the Sh**head card school gets going between cups of tea and more cake, Coco is back by popular request in the early evening. La bienheureuse is first on the massage table: another displaced tendon and numerous knots in back and shoulders are relaxed before another knee poultice is applied. La petite beaucoup is next and reports no major problems.
JeB's scrumptious cassoulet is next on the menu, and much enjoyed by all, as is the first dessert of the week, another la bienheureuse speciality, tarte tatin. Few have room for cheese, but schnapps and genepi digestifs do the after dinner rounds.
Wed 28 Jan
Le soleil est de retour! Morning lessons again for les deux petites, and the rest of us eventually manage to head off for a bit of glacier skiing, via a missed chocolat chaud rendezvous in Val Thorens. Reunited, we manage one lovely run down before la bienheureuse, JeB and I head home, leaving the others to attack the second glacier.
It's my turn to undergo the Coco treatment in the evening. Diagnosis: knotted shoulders due to the stress of a layabout sponger's life, but my back surprisingly receives a good report - straight spine and no real problems. La petite skieuse is next and in contrast her spine needs straightening and another tendon realigning. Meanwhile sounds emanating from the piano suggests that the DenEboy's practice is paying off in spades, but it turns la reine serène showing off her rather more accomplished skills instead.
It's also the final night's cooking for le grand chef, and we have a guest for dinner, la prime J paying us a visit on her catered chalet's night off. Prof Margarita's understudy sets us up with some marginally less strong cocktails, and as usual JW exceeds himself with a huge and delicious venison dish, preceded by more salmon and horseradish. Midway through the week, wine stocks are surprisingly holding up and we're more or less sticking to our ration of six bottles a night. An after dinner game of cards, with the master-builder teaching the master-chef how to play, ends with the former as Sh**head and the latter asleep.
Thu 29 Jan
A day off school for the Super Suzie acolytes, and another cloudless day, so we all head off towards Tougnette again. After a Coco-aided victory in the battle of the wounded knee the previous day, la bienheureuse is forced to retreat to some more gentle skiing on her own, while the rest of us head towards Mont Vallon. The long run down the mogul-infested east flank is enjoyed by all, despite a rare face plant from the master skier DenEboy. JW and I then have a quick run down the west flank piste while the others rest weary limbs in the café at the bottom. Thence we wend our way Meribel-wards and for old time's sake head up to Saulire for the late run down in the setting sun.
An early evening massage leaves the DeB, chef for the evening, remarkably unstressed and unhurried about getting down to cooking. While le frère takes his turn with Coco, the sous-chef grows more agitated about her master's apparent lack of urgency. With reason. Three hours later the pork stroganoff is finally ready and we sit down to dinner at ten. The wait is worth it though, and the laid-back chef produces a chocolicious bread pudding to follow. Then it's straight to bed, though a few can't resist a cheese and port digestif.
Fri 30 Jan
Greedy for improvement, les skieuses are up early for their big day out with Suzie. La bienheureuse gives her knee a rest from skiing and after les six garçons spend the morning variously on le grand duc, and la facejerusalem, the BJ boys and the JonEboy meet the BJ girl at the top of Saulire for lunch. JeB and la bienheureuse then head home in the bubble car leaving le frère et moi to take a first back of the leg whacking ride up Creux Noirs before wending our way back to Meribel via the Courchevel and La Tania valleys. JW and DeB meanwhile heed the urgings H le rouge has been making all week and enjoy themselves on La Masse. The master chef and I are the only ones to meet up for the late Saulire run home.
Final night of massages for la bienheureuse and the Margarita man, final knee poultice, final thumb strapping, and then it's au revoir to Coco. Our bodies will miss you. On the up side, Friday night is tartiflette night. With all the hard work of potato peeling and onion slicing completed by la bienheureuse, all JeB and I have to do is fry, assemble and stick it all in the oven. Result, one of the most delicious savoyard dishes known to man.
Tartiflette night also means vodka sorbet night, and vodka sorbet night means First Impressions night. Add it all together and you get a lot of drunken revelry and fun. This year it's la petite boss who finds it all a bit too much mid-game and disappears downstairs to be not seen again till morning. JeB and JW do their besht to finish the vodka, but manage to remain shlightly more coherent than last year. The game finishes uncompleted but with the la petite et le grand team declared winners, and the gang of three ending up with the most attributed personality traits. Weird, moi?
Sat 31 Jan
The last full day of the holiday is somewhat foreshortened by a late start. It's after eleven by the time the survivors manage to assemble on the slopes and eventually stumble over to Val Thorens for another run down the glacier. Les deux petites play good samaritan to a fallen kindred spirit on a steep red slope while her husband stands idly by. After a late lunch the DeB and I head home while the remainder make the most of their final day on the slopes.
La reine serène is chef for leftovers night, a misnomer if ever there was one. Delicious grilled nachos are followed by mouth-watering roast vegetables with venison and a savoury selection of grilled sausages. The only leftovers by the end of the night are on the cheese board. Even the wine was perfectly judged this year, the last bottle drunk with the last mouthful of food.
And so we make our way to bed, heavy of heart, heavy of leg, heavy of stomach but light of head and light of spirit. 'Twas a good week, blessed by great snow, good weather, fine food and wine, and amiable company. We will be back next year, credit crunch, falling exchange rates and failing bodies allowing...
Sun 1 Feb
Correction: Saturday wasn't quite the end of the week. The Cambridge minibus crew were up early and away by 8.15am leaving the Lyon clan to finish tidying the chalet and head off for an abbreviated day's skiing. We were back in la capitale des gauls by five-thirty, in time for soup, cheese and wine before le frère et moi headed off to Gerland for a less than inspiring derby draw with les stephanois. Meanwhile the Cambridge crew crossed the channel and hit snow in the Kent lowlands, but still got home.
Mon 2 Feb
Snow and chaos in the UK, calm weather and chaos in Lyon. The JonE and DenE boys decide to go to the airport despite their flight back to Heathrow being cancelled, but wring little from BA other than a promise to 'try' and put them on the same flight the next day. Thus I make a second trip to the airport to collect them again and then direct them to the train station in an attempt to get back via TGV and Eurostar. They eventually just manage to catch the same train as le frère and get as far as Lille. There, JeB keeps his seat on an overcrowded Eurostar while DeB and le frère are forced to get off. However, he who laughs last, laughs loudest. JeB's train is held up in the tunnel and overtaken by the one the other two eventually catch. The boys finally get home to Reading, Bristol and Cambridge at 10pm, midnight and 4am respectively. La bienheureuse and I had an early night.
Sat 24 Jan
The week starts well bar a forgotten coat and house keys on a train at Paddington, and despite the JonE and DenE boys spending too long in the bar at Heathrow. They just manage to board their flight before the doors close, and arrive in Lyon in perfect time for us to pick them up and successfully rendezvous with the Cambridge bus crew for the wine and cheese handover. Le frère arrives in the pouring rain at Part Dieu via Eurostar and TGV, with his other jacket locked in a suitcase with the keys still in London. We queue for a taxi and on arrival chez nous he finds it disconcertingly easy to force the lock.
The wining and dining gets off to an auspicious start with delicious tuna meatballs and a taster or two from the week's carte des vins.
Sun 25 Jan
Once again we manage to cram la petite voiture with five adults, four pairs of ski boots, three pairs of skis and other assorted baggage for a winter's week in the mountains. The precipitation of the previous two days has stopped, the roads are clear of snow for the drive up to Meribel, and we arrive in time for an afternoon's skiing in the sunshine on lovely fresh snow. Les Gooners variously stop early to watch the bore draw with Cardiff.
The Tourterelle onze are more or less reunited in the evening, with Professor Margarita coming in as a late replacement for the la prime J, who wasn't forwarded enough. Le maitre cuisinier gets the gourmandisement going with soupe de chou-fleur and a sublimely palatable Pork in Calvados. The wine cellar and cheese board are attacked with the usual gusto.
Mon 26 Jan
Les deux petite skieuses are up early for their usual pedagogic rendezvous with Super Suzie and Miss J, who this year is staying in a more sedate chalet further up the mountain. The rest of us take rather more time to hit the slopes on a day of mitigated weather, as the French would say. The clouds and the odd flake however don't spoil the enjoyment, and we have some lovely runs in Courchevel 1650 in the morning, before a gradual parting of the ways as we wend our way back to Meribel in the afternoon.
Le gateau choco-banane de la bienheureuse completes a satisfying first day, before the early evening arrival of the real star of the Meribel show, Coco la kino. Physio to la quinze de France, various other rugby teams and Wimbledon tennis players, she becomes our masseuse, osteopathic consultant and body mechanic for the week. JonEboy and the builder-gardener are her first clients. Diagnosis and treatment tally: one mildly twisted knee and poultice, one displaced and replaced shoulder tendon, one torn thumb ligament duly strapped.
The Margarita man then bravely ignores his injured thumb to create his powerful signature cocktail for the rest of us, excepting the author who is still suffering the after effects of the previous two night's drinking. Everybody manages to stagger to the table to enjoy yet another exquisite effort from le grand chef - salmon and horseradish amuses bouches, gnocchi et jambon entrée, rounded off by coconut and salmon laksa, with a bit of unrelated happy slapping as an amusing entre-plats. The cheeseboard is almost an after thought. After dinner JeB subjects a select but brave few to a core strength test which ends with only three men standing, or rather lying, and accusations of cheat flying from certain non-participants.
Tue 27 Jan
An even later start with the usual breakfast entertainment of tinkling on an out of tune piano, but most manage to hit the slopes by ten thirty and have fun on the east and west slopes of la Tougnette. After les filles head off for afternoon lessons, the rest of us gradually go our separate ways.
While the Sh**head card school gets going between cups of tea and more cake, Coco is back by popular request in the early evening. La bienheureuse is first on the massage table: another displaced tendon and numerous knots in back and shoulders are relaxed before another knee poultice is applied. La petite beaucoup is next and reports no major problems.
JeB's scrumptious cassoulet is next on the menu, and much enjoyed by all, as is the first dessert of the week, another la bienheureuse speciality, tarte tatin. Few have room for cheese, but schnapps and genepi digestifs do the after dinner rounds.
Wed 28 Jan
Le soleil est de retour! Morning lessons again for les deux petites, and the rest of us eventually manage to head off for a bit of glacier skiing, via a missed chocolat chaud rendezvous in Val Thorens. Reunited, we manage one lovely run down before la bienheureuse, JeB and I head home, leaving the others to attack the second glacier.
It's my turn to undergo the Coco treatment in the evening. Diagnosis: knotted shoulders due to the stress of a layabout sponger's life, but my back surprisingly receives a good report - straight spine and no real problems. La petite skieuse is next and in contrast her spine needs straightening and another tendon realigning. Meanwhile sounds emanating from the piano suggests that the DenEboy's practice is paying off in spades, but it turns la reine serène showing off her rather more accomplished skills instead.
It's also the final night's cooking for le grand chef, and we have a guest for dinner, la prime J paying us a visit on her catered chalet's night off. Prof Margarita's understudy sets us up with some marginally less strong cocktails, and as usual JW exceeds himself with a huge and delicious venison dish, preceded by more salmon and horseradish. Midway through the week, wine stocks are surprisingly holding up and we're more or less sticking to our ration of six bottles a night. An after dinner game of cards, with the master-builder teaching the master-chef how to play, ends with the former as Sh**head and the latter asleep.
Thu 29 Jan
A day off school for the Super Suzie acolytes, and another cloudless day, so we all head off towards Tougnette again. After a Coco-aided victory in the battle of the wounded knee the previous day, la bienheureuse is forced to retreat to some more gentle skiing on her own, while the rest of us head towards Mont Vallon. The long run down the mogul-infested east flank is enjoyed by all, despite a rare face plant from the master skier DenEboy. JW and I then have a quick run down the west flank piste while the others rest weary limbs in the café at the bottom. Thence we wend our way Meribel-wards and for old time's sake head up to Saulire for the late run down in the setting sun.
An early evening massage leaves the DeB, chef for the evening, remarkably unstressed and unhurried about getting down to cooking. While le frère takes his turn with Coco, the sous-chef grows more agitated about her master's apparent lack of urgency. With reason. Three hours later the pork stroganoff is finally ready and we sit down to dinner at ten. The wait is worth it though, and the laid-back chef produces a chocolicious bread pudding to follow. Then it's straight to bed, though a few can't resist a cheese and port digestif.
Fri 30 Jan
Greedy for improvement, les skieuses are up early for their big day out with Suzie. La bienheureuse gives her knee a rest from skiing and after les six garçons spend the morning variously on le grand duc, and la facejerusalem, the BJ boys and the JonEboy meet the BJ girl at the top of Saulire for lunch. JeB and la bienheureuse then head home in the bubble car leaving le frère et moi to take a first back of the leg whacking ride up Creux Noirs before wending our way back to Meribel via the Courchevel and La Tania valleys. JW and DeB meanwhile heed the urgings H le rouge has been making all week and enjoy themselves on La Masse. The master chef and I are the only ones to meet up for the late Saulire run home.
Final night of massages for la bienheureuse and the Margarita man, final knee poultice, final thumb strapping, and then it's au revoir to Coco. Our bodies will miss you. On the up side, Friday night is tartiflette night. With all the hard work of potato peeling and onion slicing completed by la bienheureuse, all JeB and I have to do is fry, assemble and stick it all in the oven. Result, one of the most delicious savoyard dishes known to man.
Tartiflette night also means vodka sorbet night, and vodka sorbet night means First Impressions night. Add it all together and you get a lot of drunken revelry and fun. This year it's la petite boss who finds it all a bit too much mid-game and disappears downstairs to be not seen again till morning. JeB and JW do their besht to finish the vodka, but manage to remain shlightly more coherent than last year. The game finishes uncompleted but with the la petite et le grand team declared winners, and the gang of three ending up with the most attributed personality traits. Weird, moi?
Sat 31 Jan
The last full day of the holiday is somewhat foreshortened by a late start. It's after eleven by the time the survivors manage to assemble on the slopes and eventually stumble over to Val Thorens for another run down the glacier. Les deux petites play good samaritan to a fallen kindred spirit on a steep red slope while her husband stands idly by. After a late lunch the DeB and I head home while the remainder make the most of their final day on the slopes.
La reine serène is chef for leftovers night, a misnomer if ever there was one. Delicious grilled nachos are followed by mouth-watering roast vegetables with venison and a savoury selection of grilled sausages. The only leftovers by the end of the night are on the cheese board. Even the wine was perfectly judged this year, the last bottle drunk with the last mouthful of food.
And so we make our way to bed, heavy of heart, heavy of leg, heavy of stomach but light of head and light of spirit. 'Twas a good week, blessed by great snow, good weather, fine food and wine, and amiable company. We will be back next year, credit crunch, falling exchange rates and failing bodies allowing...
Sun 1 Feb
Correction: Saturday wasn't quite the end of the week. The Cambridge minibus crew were up early and away by 8.15am leaving the Lyon clan to finish tidying the chalet and head off for an abbreviated day's skiing. We were back in la capitale des gauls by five-thirty, in time for soup, cheese and wine before le frère et moi headed off to Gerland for a less than inspiring derby draw with les stephanois. Meanwhile the Cambridge crew crossed the channel and hit snow in the Kent lowlands, but still got home.
Mon 2 Feb
Snow and chaos in the UK, calm weather and chaos in Lyon. The JonE and DenE boys decide to go to the airport despite their flight back to Heathrow being cancelled, but wring little from BA other than a promise to 'try' and put them on the same flight the next day. Thus I make a second trip to the airport to collect them again and then direct them to the train station in an attempt to get back via TGV and Eurostar. They eventually just manage to catch the same train as le frère and get as far as Lille. There, JeB keeps his seat on an overcrowded Eurostar while DeB and le frère are forced to get off. However, he who laughs last, laughs loudest. JeB's train is held up in the tunnel and overtaken by the one the other two eventually catch. The boys finally get home to Reading, Bristol and Cambridge at 10pm, midnight and 4am respectively. La bienheureuse and I had an early night.
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