Theme of the month: ill health. After four weeks of coughing and snuffling, a sore and blocked ear finally drove la bienheureuse to consult the doctor. Result: a medicine cabinet full of drugs, and a gradual recovery. Apart that is from the ear problem, which led la travailleuse to cancel a trip to Milan today. Upside of that is not missing two bath and bedtimes with la petite. Meanwhile, the latter has been suffering with her own cold, again. Third time the wretched virus has paid her a visit in the last six weeks.
As for papa, he thought his lurgy was getting better, only for it to return with renewed vengeance a couple of days ago. Or perhaps a different strain decided to strike while defences were down. Healthy family, we are not. Never known a winter like it, this from a man who claims to have been in France for eight years before succumbing to le rhume. This particular strain seems to be shuttling incessantly backwards and forwards between the three of us, and probably our two little neighbours downstairs.
We blame the latest onset for another interrupted night on Friday. This time it wasn't only the parents and la petite who suffered the consequences - the North Berwick beach lady was paying us a visit over the weekend. She arrived late on Thursday evening, very late, which meant that I was already suffering from a lack of sleep the following evening when la petite got me out of bed at midnight. She was happy enough while I stayed, but completely uninterested in going back to sleep or being left alone. Two hours later maman took over the baton, leaving me to vainly try and get some sleep. Six hours after that la petite enrhumée finally went back to sleep. A very late breakfast ensued.
The rest of the weekend maintained a similarly relaxed rhythm. Early or late breakfast, depending on status as parent or guest; lazy morning with perhaps a short walk to visit the boulangerie, épicerie ou fromagerie; slow afternoon, with perhaps a slightly longer walk along the river or into town; evening at the dinner table or in front of the TV, once la petite was in bed, followed by early night. Other theme of the month: unseasonably cool, damp and windy weather, which was no different over the weekend - another excuse for the lack of activity. Girding her loins for an exciting month ahead below and above water in the South China Seas and South Africa, the shark girl pronounced it just the break she needed. Shame she seems to have taken the dreaded virus home with her.
Out in the wider world, the first round of the election presidentielle resulted in the expected run-off between right and left, Sarkozy and Hollande. Less expected was the strong showing of the fascist right, which could be one of the reasons Sarko made history on Sunday, becoming the first sitting president since the start of the 5th republic to fail to top the first round poll. Where last time round he successfully lured support from the far right, this time round they see him as having betrayed them. Whether that changes over the next 10 days remains to be seen...
25 avril 2012
17 avril 2012
Crying foul
Foul weather - 4pm Saturday: rain starts spitting down and doesn't stop for 36 hours. Undeterred by the cold and gloomy conditions, we stroll out and blow a monkey on a new bike and child seat. La petite coquinette charms bystanders and looks cute in a helmet.
Foul match - 11.45pm Saturday: 58 fouls - the total number of free kicks at the French League Cup final. To cap it all, I stay up and watch all 120 dire minutes of the worst match in football history, only to see Lyon contrive to lose the Olympique battle of attrition to an extra time Marseille goal.
Foul odour - 4.30am Sunday: little more than four hours after I've gone to bed, we're woken by the sound of crying from the nursery. Not the normal, brief waking whinge la petite sometimes makes, something more prolonged and serious. I draw the short straw and take the first shift at settling her back down. Half an hour and two abortive attempts to put her back in bed later, I finally catch a smelly whiff and cotton on to the reason for her discomfort. After the nappy change, la bienheureuse takes over to allow me to collapse back into bed. Four hours later, the small bundle of energy finally agrees to go back to sleep, and both exhausted parents snatch another hour or two themselves.
Foul mood - 11pm Monday: the rain finally stops sometime in the early hours, but temperatures fail to climb above 6C the rest of the day. And we thought winter had ended 6 weeks ago. The biting Mistral slices through la petite and I when we venture out late afternoon and the rain starts spotting down again. To put the rotten cherry on the 3 day old cake, les cannoniers blow the chance to consolidate 3rd by losing at home to the 4th bottom team. At least the lowly Latics play decent football.
Foul health - 6.30am Tuesday: new wakeup time, on the dot la petite starts yodelling. Her parents groan, both still afflicted by the colds that have lingered for weeks, fouling the nasal, bronchial, tracheal and, in maman's case, aural passages. La bienheureuse still manages to drag herself out of bed to feed the little munchkin, who fortunately seems to have mostly regained her previous good health and humour.
Foul match - 11.45pm Saturday: 58 fouls - the total number of free kicks at the French League Cup final. To cap it all, I stay up and watch all 120 dire minutes of the worst match in football history, only to see Lyon contrive to lose the Olympique battle of attrition to an extra time Marseille goal.
Foul odour - 4.30am Sunday: little more than four hours after I've gone to bed, we're woken by the sound of crying from the nursery. Not the normal, brief waking whinge la petite sometimes makes, something more prolonged and serious. I draw the short straw and take the first shift at settling her back down. Half an hour and two abortive attempts to put her back in bed later, I finally catch a smelly whiff and cotton on to the reason for her discomfort. After the nappy change, la bienheureuse takes over to allow me to collapse back into bed. Four hours later, the small bundle of energy finally agrees to go back to sleep, and both exhausted parents snatch another hour or two themselves.
Foul mood - 11pm Monday: the rain finally stops sometime in the early hours, but temperatures fail to climb above 6C the rest of the day. And we thought winter had ended 6 weeks ago. The biting Mistral slices through la petite and I when we venture out late afternoon and the rain starts spotting down again. To put the rotten cherry on the 3 day old cake, les cannoniers blow the chance to consolidate 3rd by losing at home to the 4th bottom team. At least the lowly Latics play decent football.
Foul health - 6.30am Tuesday: new wakeup time, on the dot la petite starts yodelling. Her parents groan, both still afflicted by the colds that have lingered for weeks, fouling the nasal, bronchial, tracheal and, in maman's case, aural passages. La bienheureuse still manages to drag herself out of bed to feed the little munchkin, who fortunately seems to have mostly regained her previous good health and humour.
14 avril 2012
Final stretch
Four important weekends in the life of les lyonnais coming up: today in Paris OL play in the League Cup final against that other Olympique team, Marseille. Two weeks later they return to the Stade de France for the French Cup final against Norman minnows Quevilly. Two trophies would somewhat redeem the season for les gones, though no chickens are being counted yet. OM might be in a dreadful run of form, but they are still Marseille. And Quevilly might be in a league two levels lower than Lyon, but they are no mugs, having already beaten Marseille & Rennes and previously reached the semi-finals of the French Cup two years ago. OL beat another Ligue National team, Ajaccio, in a somewhat stormy mid-week semi-final amid a hostile atmosphere on the Île de Beauté, with several bad-tempered confrontations following a red card for one of the Corsicans, and OL striker Gomis allegedly subject to racist chants. A less than comfortable 4-0 win was the end result.
Meanwhile, in the political arena, campaigning for the first round of the presidential election is almost into its final week, with the second round two weeks later. There's little doubt it will be a UMP vs PS final, with polls still showing Sarkozy and Hollande more or less neck and neck in the first round, well ahead of the battle for third place between the far left (Melenchon) and extreme right (Le Pen fille). And Hollande is still apparently just ahead in the final play off. On verra…
Meanwhile, in the political arena, campaigning for the first round of the presidential election is almost into its final week, with the second round two weeks later. There's little doubt it will be a UMP vs PS final, with polls still showing Sarkozy and Hollande more or less neck and neck in the first round, well ahead of the battle for third place between the far left (Melenchon) and extreme right (Le Pen fille). And Hollande is still apparently just ahead in the final play off. On verra…
09 avril 2012
Upswing, down river
Seems two weeks of toddler grouchiness was probably brought on by feeling under the weather and teething. No different to adults then, apart from tooth problems being caused by them falling out or going rotten rather than growing. Anyway, la petite suddenly went from being a grumpy little monster to a sweet little angel in the space of 24 hours, the same day she was finally clear of illness and a seventh tooth made an appearance. However, cold number two has already started to snuffle its way through the nasal passages, so the good behaviour may not last long…
Out in the wider Lyonnais world, the big event of the Easter weekend was the opening of the new Confluence shopping and entertainment centre, part of the latest grand project in Lyon, the renovation of formerly derelict warehouses and docks at the southern tip of the Presqu'île where the Saône and Rhône rivers merge. We wandered out on Saturday to look at some of the festivities to mark the grand opening, including a float with water jets and mime artists on a giant umbrella on the Rhône, a flotilla of strange water craft (cars, beds, desert islands and giant hexapods topped by animal skulls) on the Saône, and a parade with a stuffed polar bear, marching bands and assorted strange machines in Place Bellecour.
Later in the evening I headed downriver again to Gerland, where OL eked out a turgid 2-1 victory against bottom club Auxerre thanks to two penalties earned and converted by Lisandro. The footballing entertainment on offer the following day was of rather higher quality, at least from the home team. The highly satisfying late victory against the oil-money wasting light blue Mancunians was preceded by a seven hour train journey across France and under the Channel, leaving just enough time for a quick pre-match pint in the pub with fellow gooners, grand et petite, who had just enjoyed an epicurean Easter lunch.
After the match we went our separate ways. I strolled north to chez the McBhoy and la Palombe, my hosts for the night. Turkish dinner was on the Sugar Lounge menu in the evening, followed by Match of the Day, sleep and an unaccustomed lie-in. Then it was time for me to make my way homeward through the London rain via tea-purchasing duties at Tescos, a crowded St Pancras, Eurostar, a time-pressed trip across Paris and a Lyon bound TGV caught with two minutes to spare. But all was well that ended well, and I was home little more than 5 hours after leaving London.
Out in the wider Lyonnais world, the big event of the Easter weekend was the opening of the new Confluence shopping and entertainment centre, part of the latest grand project in Lyon, the renovation of formerly derelict warehouses and docks at the southern tip of the Presqu'île where the Saône and Rhône rivers merge. We wandered out on Saturday to look at some of the festivities to mark the grand opening, including a float with water jets and mime artists on a giant umbrella on the Rhône, a flotilla of strange water craft (cars, beds, desert islands and giant hexapods topped by animal skulls) on the Saône, and a parade with a stuffed polar bear, marching bands and assorted strange machines in Place Bellecour.
After the match we went our separate ways. I strolled north to chez the McBhoy and la Palombe, my hosts for the night. Turkish dinner was on the Sugar Lounge menu in the evening, followed by Match of the Day, sleep and an unaccustomed lie-in. Then it was time for me to make my way homeward through the London rain via tea-purchasing duties at Tescos, a crowded St Pancras, Eurostar, a time-pressed trip across Paris and a Lyon bound TGV caught with two minutes to spare. But all was well that ended well, and I was home little more than 5 hours after leaving London.
Inscription à :
Articles (Atom)