Lakes of water

Satisfactory Saturday - watched Aussies burning to Ashes on TV in morning, caught train to watch Pompey get fried to a Gooner crisp in the afternoon, then caught another train to Cumbria in the evening.

Sodden Sunday - watched the rain come down. All day. Shopping at Lakeland and Booths was the inevitable activity for the day for the childless adults. Aliens in the Attic for the cousins with children.


Muckabout Monday - accompanied the senior generation down to the Lake to watch kids mucking about in the water in the morning, mass game of rounders in the park in the afternoon. Then the big event in the evening - celebration of the soixante-dizaine of le vieux oncle R. Forty guests for dinner at Glenridding, age range 12 months to 89 years. Highly enjoyable evening for one and all.

Trekking Tuesday - the sun deigned to put in an appearance. La bienheureuse, la belle-mère et moi took advantage of the good weather to venture out on a minor hike. Skelwith Force to Colwith Force and back to watch the water cascading over two sets of falls. Spectacular. Then a walk into Ambleside to purchase emergency dinner provisions and watch cousins and progeny hacking round the pitch and putt and on the tennis court.


Wet Wednesday - it's raining again...

Blabbering in Blighty

Another weekend, another visit from the good Doctors from Bexleyheath and their energetic offspring came and went. Halving their southbound journey time, they arrived in Lyon before lunchtime, and we all caught an air-conditioned bus to the park. Key detail, the climatisation - it was hot, too hot to traipse around the park and zoo in any comfort. But fun was had nonetheless, and then we went home to sweat in the kitchen cooking roast chicken. 

Our guests left early the next morning, and we followed them to Calais two days later. Uneventful journey, arrival in Cambridge in plenty of time for dinner chez J&C and a gratifying evening's football watching. Wednesday la bienheureuse went off to work, I fiddled and twiddled, and then we enjoyed an evening BBQ chez le grand dude to meet the strapping new arrival for the first time.  And to collect another delivery, my spanking new, spanking fast raincoat computer. 

Thursday the week deteriorated. La bienheureuse worked again, I fiddled and twiddled again, this time with my shiny new toy, and in the evening, Professor Margarita and the Caipirinha Kid came round for dinner for six, lovely lamb by the maître cuisinier himself, and a bouncing bean starter by his faithful sous-chef. Five bottles of wine, several shots of spirits and much drunken rambling later, even the dedicated JeB hit the sack. Or sofa in his case.

And so this morning, ma bien-aimée set off for parts north, leaving me to nurse a guele de bois, fiddle and twiddle some more, and wait for my first real football fix of the season tomorrow...

Squirting and screaming

Suckers for punishment, not having seen enough of the Doctors C and the mini-JeZoids the previous weekend, we set off towards the sun, sand and deep blue sea of the Côte d'Azur on Friday afternoon. Of sun, we saw plenty, but not a grain of sand nor a drop of sea. Two days spent sampling the delights of the French holiday tradition that is the Village de Vacances, venturing out of the security compound only once to visit nearby Fréjus and its Saturday market. Why bother with scratchy sand and salty sea when you've got two swimming pool complexes, complete with slides and safe swimming within three minutes walk?

And so, the weekend was enjoyably spent being regularly subjected to soakings by water pistol and drownings by water nymphs and urchins. As if two mini-JZs wasn't enough to cope with, the caravanning three goldilocks and parents added to the fun. The trip to the market equipped J-junior and Z-minor with weapons, and ensured that we stayed wet even when out of the water. In the piscine, I just about kept my head above water, even with three under-10s clinging to my back. Even an underwater forward roll couldn't dislodge the friendly middle-goldilock, a true water baby.

Mini-J Primus finally allowed us to escape Camp Delta early yesterday evening, once he was assured we were leaving a birthday present behind. We had an uneventful trip home until we neared Lyon, where we were witness to a mid-autoroute road rage incident. No serious consequences, but never cut up a Frenchman on the road...

This morning, we have a little bit of England in Lyon. It's cool, cloudy and damp.

The president and the crow

A mysterious writer of poison-pen letters is making the news in France at the moment. A series of letters has been sent to a number of senior politicians in France, including the most senior of all, Monsieur Le Président. Le corbeau (crow), as anonymous letter writers are known as in France, always signs the letters "Combattants du cellule 34", which always include a bullet.

The latest targets are Sarko and the mayor of Beziers, both for the second time. The letters are littered with choice phrases such as: "You have believed in fools, and now the time for liberation approaches. The king and his clan will disappear from the surface of the earth...", "Our first target will be the son of the king, with 3 senators, 4 deputies (MPs), a minister and a judge in the top ten, and frequent bomb scares in various shops. You will have fear..."

The police have no leads as yet...

The thunder of little feet...

Another quiet week and weekend, with a brief, somewhat noisier interlude on Friday evening and Saturday morning. The much anticipated visit of the Doctors C and the mini-JeZs took place overnight Friday. Stopping off in Lyon on their way from Calais to the sun and smoke further south, they arrived at about 8pm via an unscheduled detour through Paris. Satnavs are useful things, if you pay attention to them instead of getting wrapped up in a Dr Who adventure. Eight and a half hours cooped up in a car, albeit a rather large one, stores up plenty of energy in small five and seven year old boys. Cue much charging around, and a visit to the playground by the river, with only a brief pause to wolf down some food. Now I know why one ten year old sometimes sounds like a whole herd of elephants upstairs.

Exhaustion eventually took its toll and J-minor and Z dropped off to sleep after the minor problem of cuddly dinosaurs left in the car was solved by a fish and dolphin substitute respectively. They even let us lie in till after eight the next morning, and we waved our visitors goodbye just before midday, wishing them luck on the four hour journey that took more than six on the busiest traffic day of the year, on the busiest autoroute in the country. First day in August: half of France, and a quarter of Belgium, Holland and Germany climb into their vehicles and head towards the Med.

As for us we, erm, spent the rest of the day relaxing and recovering. Sunday, we took advantage of the blessedly cool weather to cycle down the river to Parc Gerland to watch steam rising from the ground where a new metro tunnel is being dug, then all the way back up to Parc de la Tete d'Or, then on to Parc Feyssine, then finally home to allow me to park my behind on the sofa and watch my second football fix of the weekend, a gratifying display by the much derided young Guns. Yes, the new season is nearly upon us, and optimism surges from somewhere once more...