Creating a stink

Make that three, or even four maladies in the space of less than four weeks. Head cold, followed by eye infection, followed by brief fever and spotty torso for two days, followed by a cough, which has afflicted the whole family. It all adds up to a little girl who is difficult to feed and swings from sweetness and smiles to screaming fit in the space of seconds. Not looking forward to the terrible twos if this is what the ornery ones is like…

She was however, mostly well-behaved for the visit of her aunt earlier in the week. La soeur arrived on Saturday evening to be met at the airport by her belle-soeur and niece while her brother was enjoying a little jaunt across the Channel to witness a stroll in the park against Villa and to enjoy another convivial evening chez la petite beaucoup et le grand gooner chef.

Nice weather in London too, to match the weather in Lyon, where it remained unseasonably warm and sunny for the entirety of the sororal visit. La bienheureuse meanwhile was in the midst of two exhausting weeks of travel to Milan and Monnheim respectively - a total of seven days and four nights away from home, where papa, tante and la petite passed the days playing, promenading in the sunshine and negotiating the obstacle course that the pavements of Lyon became during the two week garbage collectors strike. Large, albeit mostly fairly neat, piles of rubbish collected at various points in the streets, including one directly outside a primary school round the corner. The one outside our building slowly matured in the warm weather but was collected early in the week before the smell drifted as high as the third floor. Not sure how many potential restaurant customers were put off though. The strike eventually crumbled at roughly the same rate as the bin bags and apparently ended yesterday. Judging by the number of rubbish piles still sitting and stewing on the streets round us this morning it will take some time to clear the backlog though…

Teary eyed

So, the first 12 months: virtually no health problems. So far, two weeks into the unlucky 13th month: running total up to two illnesses already. The cold of the first week was swiftly followed by conjunctivitis in the second week. Not nice, and getting antibiotic drops into the tightly closed eyes of a screaming, struggling toddler is no easy task. She's somewhat off her food and more easily moved to tears than normal, but most of the time shrugs off the discomfort like the brave little soldier she is.

She was perfectly behaved when we took her out for dinner on Saturday evening, the day the infection became evident. The occasion was the fiftieth birthday of a friend of la bienheureuse. Our rheumy-eyed little girl wowed the dinner party guests before being put to bed in the travel cot upstairs. No complaints then and only good humour when we woke her up soon after midnight for the journey home. Very pleasant evening overall, even if the foie gras took about 2 days to digest, but perhaps it was the following night that we three suffered. Three times mama & papa had to get up to comfort la petite malade. Monday morning was hard, and despite a subsequent undisturbed night, Tuesday was even tougher for la travailleuse as she was awake at six to set off for a three day trip to Milan.

More tears shed in the wider world, following the shocking murders in Toulouse. Hard to avoid the feeling that they were of the crocodile variety from some politicians in particular, with the presidential campaign being overshadowed. The candidates all declared a 'ceasefire' in campaigning, which seemed a rather hollow promise as they all promptly made appearances designed to keep profiles as high as possible. And now the supposed killer has been found, having been forced to keep fairly quiet by initial suspicions that the perpetrator was of a similar far-right persuasion, Mme Le Pen has been quick to try and turn events to her advantage. It's going to be a long 32 days…

In Lyon the rubbish isn't just political. The real stuff hasn't quite piled up and putrefied enough to bring tears to the eyes, but it won't be long. La grève des eboueurs is into its tenth day and no end yet in sight. And the warm sunny weather is back after a brief return to seasonal temperatures and our first rainy day in weeks…

Quietly busy

Wednesday, mid afternoon, my time is my own. More or less. La petite coquinette is spending her second day (first full one) downstairs with her young neighbours and la nourrice. Dropped her off this morning and sidled out when she wasn't looking. All has been quiet since, even when I stopped briefly on the landing to wistfully listen on my way in and out of the building. No doubt I'll wean myself off that eventually.

Not that I've been twiddling my thumbs and pining (not too much, anyway). Notice of a £100 penalty from HM Revenue & Customs for failing to file a tax return in time saw to that. Fined for neglecting to inform them that they owe me money for the last tax year seems a bit unfair, that's the UK tax office for you. A phone conversation with a distinctly unsympathetic Geordie jobsworth informed me that I had no choice but to pay and appeal. 'Rules is rules' apparently, so a letter of appeal is already on its way across the Channel. Don't hold your breath…

Another bit of paperwork out of the way is a letter to the Syndic (our building management company) to accompany the cheque for the latest charges, pointing out that last year's AGM still hasn't been called yet (technically due within the first 3 months of the year), and that the last set of accounts approved dates back to 2009. I politely asked them not to cash the cheque until the AGM has been held and the previous years' accounts closed. Not holding my breath on that one either.

The weather in Lyon continues to be fine. It was sunny over the weekend but rather breezy. The pushchair was almost blown over during a walk along the river and into the park on Sunday, and watching OL end a 4 game run without a win (including the limp exit from the Champions League in Cyprus last week) against Lille on Saturday evening was rendered a rather chilly experience with the Mistral whistling through Gerland. Today the wind has dropped and temperatures up into the 20s, where they are forecast to remain for the next few days, which might have the whole city holding its breath and noses soon because the bin men are on strike in protesting at the privatisation of the service. Not sure how effective the strike will be with the council bringing in interim workers to collect rubbish, but then that's only going to harden the attitude of the unions…

On the wider political stage, with the countdown to the presidential election now below forty days, the various drama queens are all warming up nicely. Front National candidate, Le Pen fille, now has her 500 nominations. One suspects the FN was merely making political capital out her of potentially being prevented from standing for president, although one political commentator on TV reckoned it was the ruling UMP party deliberately making her sweat by withholding permission for local maires to sign her nomination until the last moment. Meanwhile le president-candidat himself has been trying on more and more of Madame Le Pen's clothes in a bid to drain support from the far right, a tactic which has made up some ground but so far not enough. A recent poll put him ahead in the first round, but still losing the second round to Hollande.

Infectious affection

Twelve months can pass very quickly. La petite coquinette is now in her second year of life. It seems just a short while ago that she was making us wait before making an appearance. She celebrated her first birthday with a couple of other firsts - first day (in fact half-day) spent away from both parents, and first cold. The former, in the company of two little neighbours downstairs and their nanny, was the start of a regular one day a week event. She was apparently quite unconcerned about being left in the company of strangers for several hours. Meanwhile the apartment got a much-needed spring clean as her mother distracted herself.

The cold was a less welcome novelty and serves her right for kissing strange boys in the street. Told you she was precocious. Though in fact it was her suitor who made the first move - another toddler, a few months older, judging by his size, spotted her while we were strolling along the river, made a bee line for her and started smothering her with bisous. She was quite unfazed by it all, but then she's used it. That was the third spontaneous show of affection from passers by she's inspired in recent week. A young woman planted a kiss on her brow a few weeks ago, and then a young man chucked her on the cheek a few days ago. I guess we shouldn't be surprised…

I witnessed another show of affection this week when I made another pilgrimage across the Channel to witness the last rites of another Champions League season at the holy ground. Affection is something that hasn't been much in evidence among the fans in recent months, but the performance in so nearly coming back from a four goal deficit was worthy of it. Apart from the disappointment of coming so near and yet so far, it was a pleasant trip, with a pint or two and dinner in the pub with the Margarita man and a chatty young friend. I almost didn't make it either, with technical problems on the tram to the airport and the usual understaffing at the immigration control causing anxiety about catching the flight. The return leg was much smoother and I was home in time to sing happy birthday and share my snotty daughter's cake.

The following day la grand-mère bade us a reluctant goodbye and returned home, having completed her quota of baking and sewing chores and restocked her supply of grandchild memories. And so yesterday la petite enrhumée was left with just papa for entertainment and company during the day. We survived…