Hubris & schadenfreude

Seems I spoke too soon about the improved mood in the French football camp. No sooner had they gained plaudits for their first two games, than they threw it all away against a team with nothing to play for. Thanks to English luck though, they still made it through to the quarter-finals, where the bad against Sweden went to worse against Spain. It seems the fissures in les Bleus had only been papered over post-Knysna.

The French public and media are reasonably unanimous in condemning the self-centredness and lack of respect displayed by some players. And squarely in the middle of all the blame flying around was one Citizen who shunned footballing idealism for huge reserves of oil-stained lucre. Quite apart from his hate-hate relationship with the French media, even his teammates were accusing him of selfishness. Now where have I heard that before? L'Équipe claims the authorities are considering banning him from the national team for two years. Hohoho…

Watching an otherwise entertaining Euro 2012 unfold on French TV has been something of a trial. Unlike previous major competitions, which have all been available on free-to-air channels, this year a new player muscled in on the scene and bought up a large chunk of the TV rights. And as it's a subscription channel, if you don't pay, you don't watch. In fact half the games, including all the knockout phase are on free channels and I thought I was quids in when the new channel appeared on our cable feed unscrambled during the first weekend. However, three days in the so-and-sos encrypted it, so I was forced to miss half the remaining group games. Which at least offered some relief in certain quarters…

In the domestic arena things trundle along happily. La petite continues to grow and develop at what I might describe as an alarming rate. Most things have to be be done by herself and help from parents is often decidedly unwelcome, which doesn't stop her becoming quickly frustrated and upset when things don't go her way. Favourite activities at the moment include taking dirty mugs and bits of rubbish into the kitchen and wearing papa's underwear.

The last couple of weekends we've kept her amused by taking her swimming on Saturday morning, where she floats and splashes happily when she's not gazing intently at all the other activity going on around her. Last Sunday we also ventured out on a day trip to the Parc des Oiseaux, where she remarkably suffered without complaint an unexpected half hour queue to get in. I guess the thing about queues is that there are always plenty of other people to keep the interest. As for the birds, well they were just birds…

Pride, prejudice, pathos

And so, Président Hollande and the Socialists duly won a thumping parliamentary majority in the second round of elections yesterday. Not that 43% of the French electorate cared enough to go out and vote. Media interest has been concentrated on various high profile circonscriptions, such as the one in Northern France where the Front National leader's gratifyingly lost by a whisker to her Socialist rival. Perhaps Mme Le Pen should have grown a beard to go with the voice. Unfortunately, 3 of her similarly inclined colleague, including her 22 year old niece, did win their seats to give the extreme right MPs for the first time.

Elsewhere, Ségolène Royal was soundly beaten in her chosen seat by the dissident Socialist who maintained his candidacy despite being ordered by the party hierarchy to stand down in favour of the 'parachuted in' Royal. The battle was given added piquancy when Valérie Trierweiler, the current partner of Hollande tweeted her support for the rebel Olivier Falorni. Mme Royal was given lukewarm backing by the president and is, of course, his ex-partner and mother of his four children. Miaow…

One novelty this year was the introduction of 11 'foreign' constituencies, among them one for Northern Europe which includes the UK, giving expat French people a minor say in what goes on in their mother country. Anybody in Westminster listening? asks one expat Brit who will lose his right to vote in the UK in less than five years…

Perhaps France was more preoccupied by the European football championships in Poland and the Ukraine, where the national team's campaign has borne a marked contrast to the 2010 World Cup, despite a mere draw with the boring English. The subsequent win over Ukraine has seemingly set les Bleus on course for the quarter-finals, barring an unlikely set of results in the next games.

The football itself was somewhat overshadowed over the weekend by the sudden death of Thierry Roland, the doyen of French football commentators. His enthusiasm for the game will be sorely missed on TV games from now on, even if TF1 had already rather rudely deprived him of his largest audience some years ago. Perhaps the best description of his commentating style was given by another larger than life character in French football, Rolland Courbis, who said he commentated as though he was watching games at home from his own sofa. RIP Thierry.

Dampened expectations

The first round of the parliamentary elections in France yesterday were inevitably somewhat overshadowed by the presidential election that preceded them a month ago. It wasn't until about 10 days ago that the media started paying much attention at all to them, and that was mainly focused on the more high-profile constituencies such as the extreme right-far left punch-up between Le Pen & Melenchon. And it seems enthusiasm for the vote was duly dampened, perhaps in part by the wet weather yesterday, because the turnout was the lowest ever in the republican era. 

The new president seems likely to be given a workable parliamentary majority, even if it is only with the support of the far left. Thanks to the election system, the Front de Gauche are ironically predicted to gain a dozen or so seats, at least four times as many as the Front National despite only getting half the number of votes and Melenchon losing the mediatised battle with Le Pen. Long may it continue…

Chez these particular disenfranchised foreigners, the election more or less passed us by. Other matters demand greater attention:

the weather - the arrival of summer ten days ago turned out to be a mere rumour. Since that blazing hot Saturday, temperatures have dropped below seasonal norms and the rain has been more or less ever present. Taking la petite out for her daily constitutional has become an exercise in dodging the showers. Yesterday we got it wrong. A trip by bike to the local garden centre for lunch and an emergency purchase of wellies for la travailleuse's sugar beet field trip to eastern Germany this week seemed a good idea until we left the shop to find the rain coming down. No waterproofs either. Fortunately it eased enough for us to get home without getting too wet.

toddler health: another routine visit to the paediatrician last week produced familiar results - tears and struggles before the jab but not after, a clean bill of health, another 3cm, another kilo, and a recommendation from the good doctor that la petite take up judo after her demonstration of muscle strength. He also warned of minor after-effects from the MMR vaccine, which possibly explain why la petite succumbed to yet another cold a few days later.

toddler adventure: the cold doesn't stop the little stunt artist from frequent demonstrations of her new found climbing skills. Latest favourite mountains to conquer are the arms of the sofas, from which it's great fun to fall backwards onto the soft sofa cushions. Continual admonishments from mama & papa as they nervously eye the more dangerous fall in the other direction have little effect.

Sun & water dance

On Saturday, the sun shone, the temperature climbed into the thirties and we spent the afternoon at the Fête de l'Eau, not so much a water party as the Jons village fête. A friend of la bienheureuse was one of the organisers, hence our presence, and we enjoyed delicious paella for lunch in the sweltering heat. Someone had rather thoughtlessly cut down the large trees that had apparently provided shade in previous years, but a giant marquee fortunately sheltered the lunch party from the worst of the sun, even if it also trapped warm air somewhat.

On the agenda after lunch was a guided visit to the Barrage de Jons, one of the dams on the Rhône management system that diverts water to a small hydroelectric station upriver of Lyon. Meanwhile, back at the party, dancing dogs, rides in horse-drawn carriages and various river craft continued through the afternoon. And so did the music, the rhumba band delighting la petite danseuse so much that she climbed up onto the dance floor and led the boogying.

The next day we recovered and the water arrived a day late, lots of it falling from the sky. As if in sympathy, the thermometer mercury tumbled too, a full fifteen degrees. From midsummer to early spring in one fell swoop, and la petite grognarde went a little stir crazy, despite being taken out for a walk in the rain by maman while papa remained dry in front of the TV tennis. Or perhaps she was suffering from the previous day's excitement and lack of sleep. Still, the day spent mostly indoors allowed her to practise her latest skill, climbing. Nothing so easy as the sofa for her. No, something more challenging like the baby walker or the wooden activity box. And once she's reached the top and stood up, the huge self-congratulatory grin - 'look, no hands, how clever am I?' - makes it hard to tell her off with a straight face.

A few days earlier a different sort of water was falling from above. La bienheureuse went into la petite chambre and realised there was leak coming from l'appartement au dessus. Visions of the infamous flood of 2006 came flooding back and she dashed upstairs to warn the neighbours. Yes, the same flat and the same neighbours who were the origin of that six month nightmare. 

Meanwhile, I hastened to see how many buckets might be required, only to find that the leak had stopped. The neighbours arrived in a state of some bemusement until Monsieur said to Madame, "Did you just water the plants?". She nodded. A simple case of an overfilled house plant pot; only damage - a couple of small damp patches on the bed cover. Phew!