Scaling the heights

Seven days that passed in a flurry of football, chocolate eggs, food and wine, the weekend de Pâques and coming back from the dead.

It all started at Gerland last Tuesday. The all French Champions League quarter-final lived up to the hype. After a first 30 minutes in which Bordeaux went behind early, equalised quickly and then played most of the football, Lyon got a second goal on the break and went in 2-1 up at half time. Les girondins were more exposed in the second half, les lyonnais duly scored a third, and the stadium bounced.

The following morning I caught a plane to Gatwick for the most hyped quarter final of all. After a pleasant day wandering round London buying cheese and apple software, some excellent beer and food in the Marquess with le grand chef, the match lived up to expectations. At least one of the teams did. Never before have I seen Arsenal so completely outplayed, and possession so completely dominated by the visiting team. Barcelona truly were the best team in the world. For the first 60 minutes anyway. Somehow it was still 0-0 at half time, so after all their great passing moves in the first half, it was even more galling to see them score twice in the first 15 of the second with simple balls over the top.

Then came the fight back, much to the relief of the sixty thousand. Pace and a goal got Arsenal back in it, and a penalty from our own Catalan king did the rest. Scored with a broken leg, which puts him out of the second leg today, along with Arsenal's four other best players. Objectively we have no chance. But then we had no chance 2-0 down with 20 minutes left of a first leg, which the opposition was totally dominating...

And so to the Easter weekend. I returned to Lyon on Thursday and was back at the airport 24 hours later to pick up the Caipirinha Kid and Crystal Tipps. A couple of glasses of Gewurztraminer and cheese provided sufficient fuel for a wander round Lyon viewing painted walls, crossing footbridges and drinking coffee in the old town. Then it was back home to prepare for dinner with a G&T. Les Oliviers was the excellent choice of venue, and tasty fare, particularly the duckling, was enjoyed by all. Back at home whisky digestifs ensured a mild hangover the following morning.

Thick heads and grey skies weren't going to stop a ritual visit to the mecca of fresh food markets though. Les Halles supplied fish, vegetables and cheese for dinner, and sundry photo opportunities for the new DSLR. Then it was off out into town again, this time the heights of Fourvière the objective, reached via the 798 steps of the Montées de Carmes Déchaussés et Nicolas de Lange. First time I've climbed the hill that way, so I accompanied the others to the top then turned round, leaving them to take an appropriately themed route down via the basilica, Roman amphitheatre, église de St George and cathedral while I took the direct descent into a hell of football watching in the pub lasting 94 minutes, until the great Dane's head relieved the angst.

It was thus safe for the two Js and la bienheureuse to accompany me home, where dinner was cooked, champagne and canapés, cod and olives wrapped in jambon, and two bottles of excellent Gigondas were consumed, and beds were finally fallen into. Strangely, it was with a clear head that we went for a quick stroll round the park the following morning, with frequent pauses for animal photo opportunities. And then it was time to take les invitées back to the airport. We waved goodbye at the end of a spiffing weekend.

Easter Monday passed in a quiet hive of inactivity, apart from a stroll along the river in the afternoon. Today the pub and football on TV awaits again. I maintain an air of realistic fatalism...