Travails and travel trouble

Pleasant weekend, all the more so with the current spell of lovely weather continuing. Saturday, in the best tradition, was football day. Two games, two laboured victories, but never complain about a win. First, to the pub to watch les hommes d'Arsène Wenger uncharacteristically dig out a satisfying 1-0 result thanks to a man of the match display by the 3rd choice keeper. As soon as the final whistle went, we headed off to Gerland, a journey which would normally have taken less than half an hour and got us there just before kickoff. However we neglected to take account of the ongoing public transport strike, which I'd erroneously thought wasn't continuous. The automatic metro line was running, but it only got us half way there. Fortunately there were replacement shuttle buses running. Though only to one stop short of the ground, so after a brisk 400m walk, we ended up missing about 10 minutes of the game. And the opening goal, for the opposition.

Toulouse were playing well and OL continued to struggle for the rest of the first half, but a half time change of tactics and an 18 year-old substitute livened things up. The young striker scored a lovely equaliser and Lyon eventually scored a scrappy winner a few minutes from time. Another quick exit as soon as the final whistle went, another brisk walk back to where the shuttle buses departed, and who should we bump into on the bus but a former colleague of la bienheureuse who left Lyon 3 years ago. Funnily enough we bumped into him in the pub a year or two ago, again without being aware he was visiting Lyon. Quelle coincidence. Or maybe not, when you consider he's as much of a football fanatic as me (even if he supports the dark side).

A more gentle day Sunday. Stroll along the river and through the park, amble round the garden centre looking for more indoor greenery, then a tough trudge back home bearing large plant and self-watering pot. Rather warm work for a late September sunday. Today, the good weather continues and so does the strike...

Strike and counterstrike

More drama in the Clearstream affair. Questioned (in New York) about the trial during one of his marathon 'broadcast to the nation' interviews, Sarkozy offered a tasty soundbite to the several million viewers back home: "... two independent judges were of the opinion that the guilty parties should be tried in court..." Key word - guilty. Back in Paris, where court proceedings that day were still ongoing, de Villepin's lawyers seized on it. "Damaging my client's fundamental right to be presumed innocent...", "Is this respect for the court? ... learning from the president of France that my client is guilty. Is this type of justice acceptable?"

Understandably. The former PM's lawyers were already questioning Monsieur le Président's right to be a plaintiff, when it is he who is the ultimate judicial authority, and in that bizarre quirk of French politics, is immune from prosecution while still in office. The TV interview is generally being seen as something of a gaffe, even by a significant number of members of his own party...

In Lyon, we're in the second day of a public transport strike, called to protest about plans to reform working practices. Most buses, trams and metros are not running at all, which has meant la bienheureuse walking to and from work. And the strike notice allows for strike action until the beginning of next year...

A stream as clear as mud

The 'trial of the decade' opened yesterday in Paris amid much media fanfare. Le procès Clearstream puts former PM Dominic de Villepin in the dock. Clearstream (named after the Luxembourg bank used in the laundering of slush money from arms deals) seems something of a misnomer for an affair about as murky as sewage water.

De Villepin has several other co-accuseds, but it is the former PM who dominates the headlines, and he started with a bang yesterday, making a statement outside the court claiming that he was only there because of the will and obsession of one man - Nicolas Sarkozy, denouncing the trial as a political show trial. Indeed, the whole affair is being characterized as a battle to the death between two sworn enemies.

It all goes back to 2004 when a list of names of Clearstream account holders alleged to have received bribes relating to an arms deal was leaked. It eventually turned out that the list was part genuine, part fabrication. Among the false names was Sarkozy (albeit indirectly, using his Hungarian patronymic names). De Villepin stands accused of deliberately adding Sarkozy's name to the list with the aim of torpedoing his bid for the Presidency. The murky world of politics...

Elsewhere, le Corbeau has been arrested. The suspect has apparently confessed to being the author of dozens of threatening letters, ominously accompanied by a bullet, sent to a number of politicians (including, inevitably, Monsieur le Président) over the past couple of years. And there's a post office strike in France today. Good excuse for delaying sending out more agent queries then - another rejection in the post today...

Otherwise, had a pleasant 36 hour trip to Blighty over the weekend. Flight to Gatwick Saturday morning, beer in the London sunshine at lunch, bright game and lovely result at the home of football in the afternoon, tasty curry with JeB in the evening, successfully evaded the security system and got into the Margarita Man's empty house for a bed for the night, then flight home from Stansted on Sunday morning. Yesterday la bienheureuse got her own back by flying off to Brussels for three days.

France 3 Italy 3

A mild peculiarity of this season's Champion's League group stages is that all three French teams were drawn against Italians, and this week, as luck would have it, there were three France-Italy contests. Result of round 1 - stalemate: one loss, one draw, one win, 3 goals scored, 3 goals conceded.

On Tuesday Marseille were mugged in the Velodrome by the streetwise AC Milan, while Bordeaux grabbed a creditable draw in Turin. Last night it was OL's turn to take on our transalpine neighbours, Fiorentina the visitors to Gerland. We duly took our seats for a 'fiercely contested' match. In the first half the lyonnais fans were much enraged by the rough house tactics of the visiting Viola, and an evenly balanced game swung OL's way at the end of the half when the opposition striker was sent off for an illegal strike - that of his elbow meeting with his marker's face.

The second half was predictably attack and defence, and the pressure finally told fifteen minutes from time when the Italians' French goalkeeper was at last beaten after beating out yet another shot, for once to the feet of an OL player. Les lyonnais could then have had two or three more, but failed to put the chances away and were forced to endure a nerve-wracking final few minutes as Fiorentina won a series of corners and free kicks close to goal.

But all was right on the night, particularly when I heard news of a famous comeback in Belgium in a match somewhat closer to my heart. Today, as if to celebrate, the sun is shining again after a couple of cool, damp and gloomy days. Cold enough to dig out long trousers and put the duvet back on the bed. Autumn is on the way...

The good, the bad and the ugly

A mixed weekend. The good: weather remained mostly warn sunny, and there were plenty of outdoor events in Lyon - the annual mass participation mountain bike ride through the streets, up and down steps and along the river; displays by local associations; and an art and pottery fair in Vieux Lyon. The bad: neither of us really got out to enjoy any of it.

Reasons for not getting out much? The good: la bienheureuse, who was being extremely conscientious and worked most of the weekend to get the new documents (which will become part of European law) finished. The bad: the fact that she was forced to work induced sheer laziness on my part, though I did fiddle hard trying to learn how to do things on the new waterproof computer.

We did in fact go out once, on Saturday evening, to watch some football. Two matches in my case, one in that of ma bien aimée. The good: OL won the game we both saw, albeit in rather uninspiring fashion, to remain joint top. The bad: watching in the pub as my true équipe de cœur lost for the second time in a row in that dismal, rainy northern city. The ugly: the concession of three goals in a crazy ten minute spell that lost them the match. The really ugly: two attempts to maim former teammates and one attempt to incite a riot amongst the away fans by a certain unloved, money-grabbing, egocentric striker.

Agents of news

Its been a busy week for the headline writers in France. Almost too many attention grabbing stories for them to cope with. La rentrée of schools last week was mainly characterised by information about how to cope with le grippe A as they more accurately refer to swine flu here. Then this week it has now officially reached epidemic proportions in France - more than 50,000 new cases per week. Still only 3 deaths so far though.

Elsewhere we've had another escape from prison - this time of the accused in the highly publicised murder of a well known actor's daughter and her friend 5 years ago, plenty of polemic about the proposed carbon tax, a political storm about the interior minister's alleged racist comments during the summer party conference, and more media frenzy about Les Bleus' struggle to qualify for the World Cup and Thierry Henry allegedly (since denied) telling coach Domemech that training was boring and the team had no idea what it was doing. Two draws were a poor return for what were actually two half-decent performances, particularly in the match in Belgrade where France outplayed Serbia for eighty minutes with only ten men.

On the home front, after a lazy weekend (a cycle ride and lunch in the sunshine on the banks of the river the limit of energetic activity) it's also been a relatively busy week. La bienheureuse is in Blighty working too hard trying to finish a Europe-wide blueprint for product registration documents, while I've been fiddling about at home getting the hang of the new toy to get more pitches to agents sent out.

Score so far: five sent three weeks ago, two rejection slips, one form rejection letter, and one rejection letter which at least looks as though it was composed personally:

"while the storyline offers much to entertain, I didn't feel sufficiently in tune with the narrative style to represent your interests...", "...didn't strike the right chord... doesn't mean another agent won't feel differently...", blah, blah, etc, etc.

On second thoughts, it probably is another form letter, just one that's been more carefully and tactfully composed. Undaunted I press on. Another four sent out this week...

And the skies cried...

A week in the Lake District - plenty of water, couldn't really expect anything else. Rainy day followed by two dry days, followed by rainy day, followed by two showery days.

Tiring Thursday - accompanied by closest cousin S and family, and youngest cousin A and girlfriend we ventured out for a morning of activity - mountain biking in Grizedale forest. Up and down hills on forest tracks - enjoyable but knackering, especially for the young newcomer to the Sandford clan. And we only encountered a brief, drizzly shower. In the evening, the forty-something generation escaped into Ambleside for the traditional dinner out. Tapas this time, with the traditional inquisition of cousin A centering on his matrimonial intentions.

Fiddling Friday - dodged the heavy showers to amble into Ambleside where la belle-mère purchased birthday and christmas presents, belated and advance for la bienheureuse et moi. Bolting the stable door after the horse had bolted, we both chose light waterproof jackets. Takeaway fish and chips for 21 in the evening, but the weather forced a generation. Three age-groups, three aparments.

Stopover Saturday - up early to pack and clear the apartment by 9am, dropped off la grand-mère in east Cheshire, then headed across to north Wales to visit le beau-frère, la belle-sœur et les belles chiennes. Tour of the landowner's personal wood before chicken dinner. Finally back to west Cheshire to view the evil red empire spawn a flukey win against for forces of footballing good.

Southbound Sunday - headed back to east Cheshire to meet up with 2 frères, 1 soœur, 1 belle-sœur, 2 nièces, 2 neveux, a dog and a cat for lunch at the pub, and a few games of Mario Kart before heading further east and south to Cambridge. Arrived chez J&C in time for delicious porc au lait and a glass of wine or two.

Moody Monday - sunny skies outdoors were clouded by emotional trauma deep inside. We suffered with friends afar, but the weather did its best to cheer us up, as did the evening house-warming skiing reunion BBQ chez H le rouge and la sereine. Before the meal, a tour of the local sights - the unconsecrated graves of three 17th C religious non-conformists - and an energetic game of football between two young Austrians and three old crocks.

Traveling Tuesday - up even earlier to catch a ferry at 11am, caught in plenty of time despite going nowhere for half an hour on the M11/M25 slip road. Then a gloomy 750km drive through rain, rain and more rain to finally arrive at home, sweet home just before nine in the evening. Ritual sigh of relief to find a dry apartment once more.