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.
