There was an upside to a yesterday in which a six hour flight delay was only the second worse part: tasty parsnip soup and Tarte Tatin awaiting me on my return from witnessing a horror story in the pub, which in itself was a poor substitute for attending the nightmare in person.
The day was cold and bright as I set off for the airport at 8.30 yesterday morning through a city covered in a centimetre thick blanket of fresh snow. Arrived, went through security, waited for the flight. And waited, and waited. Eventually, an hour after departure time, they announced a further delay of two hours. No matter, still time for me to get to the holy ground in good time, and they offered a generous 4 euro 50 voucher for refreshments. Of course, in the extortionately priced refreshment kiosk, it didn't buy much, but it did help pass the time.
And the time passed, and passed. Eventually, a few minutes after the estimated departure time, the flight was called for departure. Hooray, if it left reasonably promptly there was still time to make the match. Through passport control and into the holding pen that passes for a departure lounge, where we could watch passengers disembarking from the plane that was presumably scheduled to take us across the Channel. Think again. More than half an hour later, another announcement: "Your plane is here, but the flight crew (returning on another flight) won't arrive for another hour. Departure is estimated for 20 minutes after that."
Sinking stomach. A departure estimated at 15:40 would have got me to Stansted about 20 minutes after the match had kicked off, so at that point I gave up and went home. A claim for compensation and reimbursement is currently winging its way to Luton. Hope it doesn't get delayed...
I found other comfort of sorts in the fact that not being in London/Cambridge last night meant la bienheureuse and I could attend OL's match with PSG together. So we shivered (min temperature last night -6C) through 90 minutes of football, in most of which Lyon were outplayed by Paris, and were somewhat fortunate to find themselves only a goal down (thanks to a match-winning display by the reserve keeper) when the visitors had a player sent off with 20 minutes left. Labouring away, les gones finally conjured up an equaliser and winner ten minutes from time.
Otherwise it's been a quiet week since our return from Australia, spent catching up with work (for the wage-earner at least, including annual assessment, which deservedly earned 5 gold stars) and recovering from jet-lag, which seems to have hit us both more than normal. We did have an evening out on Friday, attending a Django Reinhardt centenary concert, which was foot-tappingly good in parts but dragged at times despite the virtuosity of the musicians. I'll blame the jet lag...
Meanwhile, on the political stage, the big news last week was the acquittal of Dominic de Villepin in the Clearstream trial, which is being seen as a bit of a bloody nose for Sarko. The feud continues with Villepin blaming the prosecution's decision to appeal on interference by the Elysée. I fear we haven't heard the last of the Clearstream affair...
