As it turned out, the two day journey from Lyon to Cheshire wasn't as bad as feared. La travailleuse took half a day off work (intended to be a full day, but an unreasonable deadline at work put paid to that idea) to do most of the packing, leaving me to load the new voiture and finally figure out, with help from la bienheureuse, how to fit the roof bars securely (blame a head befuddled by illness and fatigue). Bars for a roof box that in the end we decided to travel without, partly thanks to efficient packing, but mostly because the new, higher car with roof box attached won't fit into the garage or even through the door into the courtyard which houses the garage. Gnash, gnash...
And so, the Friday before Noël we set off soon after 9.30am on the long drive north. Eight and a half hours and two refreshment breaks later we arrived at our overnight stop in the wonderfully named Loon Plage near Dunkirk after a journey troubled only by minor complaints from the child seat. iPads are wonderful in-car child entertainment devices. Dinner in the hotel and a relatively quiet night, at least in the case of the youngest occupant of the room, followed. Her parents, both still suffering heavy colds, intermittently slept and snored well throughout the night, though apparently never at the same time.
A five minute drive to the ferry terminal the following morning allowed us to check in more than an hour before the 10am sailing, though there was a bit of unseemly haste later after a relaxed drink in the café was rudely interrupted when la bienheureuse went back to the car to find it was only one of three left in the boarding queue. The two hour crossing was smooth enough and made easier by a soft play area which kept la petite coquinette amused for much the time, and French wheels touched English soil for the first time just after eleven in the morning.
Long drive north number two through persistent rain and a mere two traffic hold-ups (A2 and M25) took almost five hours, but we arrived chez la belle-mère (who had paid for her trip in the reverse direction three weeks earlier by contracting the dreaded virus) only mildly the worse for wear. Exhaustion was staved off until after dinner and then we all collapsed into bed.
Rest and recovery was the main item on the agenda for the next couple of days, apart from two shopping trips for la bienheureuse et la belle-mère, one for a bit of last minute Christmas shopping, the other the weekly provision run.
Come Christmas morning, lingering coughs and snot-clogged sinus pains apart, the adults in the family seemed to be on the slow road to health, and la petite was already there. After a morning spent opening presents it was off across the border to spend Christmas day chez le beau-frère in deepest north Wales. A cosy time was had by all, Christmas lunch was delicious and enormous, once again the in-laws were far too generous and received the dubious present of the nasty virus in return.
On Boxing Day, the slow gathering of the opposite side of the clan commenced, with le grand frère arriving late in the afternoon. The next day le petit frère and la cuñada dos arrived in the afternoon, after a game of hide and seek with me in their hotel in Chester for a few minutes, and la soeur completed the party the same afternoon. Despite suffering from a the after-effects of a heavy cold herself, la belle-mère heroically aided her French visitors' recuperation by doing almost all of the cooking and cleaning. Delicious roast ham was on the Boxing Day dinner menu, and followed by luscious roast lamb on Thursday.
The cook was given the morning off on Friday for the mass visit of the East Cheshire branch of the family, leaving me free reign of the kitchen to put together the now traditional family Christmas tartiflette for thirteen. Nieces and nephews keep growing and changing, but a good time was had by all, particularly the baby of the family who had sundry aunts, uncles and cousins to keep her amused and give her yet more presents. Enough to make us wonder if the roof-box might after all have been needed.
The next day, the visitors left one by one and the football obsessive also took temporary leave for a day trip to the smoke to watch the trigger happy gunners and geordies take unequal shares of a ten goal thriller. Well worth the long day and late night return. Meanwhile, the three girls took advantage of the absence of guests with a trip to the soft play centre at a nearby ice cream farm.
After another pleasant day in North Wales on Sunday, and another trip to the ice cream farm on Monday, all too soon it was the eve of the new year. We compromised on need for sleep and sense of duty by seeing in the French new year with a small coupe de champagne before going to bed. And on New Years day, it was time to start the long journey home. With a hint of a tear in the eye and car stuffed with baggage and gifts we took our leave of la belle-mère and headed south to our first stop near Cambridge, where we spent a pleasant day and two evenings chez Professor Margarita with his poorly spaniel.
Then we hit the road once more. Dover, cross-channel ferry, Dunkirk and three hours on French autoroutes passed in a blur before we made an overnight stop near Chalons in Champagne country. Thence it was a mere four hour cruise down the autoroute before we were back home in not-so-sunny Lyon. The end of a very pleasant, only-slightly-marred-by-ill-health festive holiday.
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est christmas. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est christmas. Afficher tous les articles
04 janvier 2013
10 janvier 2012
Ten
The new year was seen in quietly, with a half-bottle of champagne and some heartening TV watching, Match of the Day. On the second day of 2012 we waved a reluctant goodbye to grand-mère, and set off for the journey south. Three and a half relatively painless hours later we arrived chez Professor Margarita once more, and enjoyed yet another convivial evening with salmon and salad for dinner, and the Caiparinha Kid for additional company.
And after a reasonably smooth and uneventful flight across the Channel, we were home by 6pm the following day. La petite, as usual, forewent any sleep during the journey, too much going on to even consider closing her eyes, but was subsequently asleep within an hour of getting home. While drinking her milk. The whole biberon still went down on autopilot mode though…
Since then, life has resumed its normal course. La petite coquinette's new year resolution seems to be that one daytime siesta is quite enough for her, unless the second is in the pram during our habitual early evening winter promenades. La bienheureuse is overworked and travel weary - one night away from home already, a second coming up at the end of the week ('team-building' event) and another next week. Two whole days without seeing her little angel is tough.
Meanwhile, last weekend we celebrated a couple of anniversaries. The youngest member of the family reached 10 months (able to stand for a few seconds unsupported already), and her parents notched up ten whole years in France. How time flies...
And after a reasonably smooth and uneventful flight across the Channel, we were home by 6pm the following day. La petite, as usual, forewent any sleep during the journey, too much going on to even consider closing her eyes, but was subsequently asleep within an hour of getting home. While drinking her milk. The whole biberon still went down on autopilot mode though…
Since then, life has resumed its normal course. La petite coquinette's new year resolution seems to be that one daytime siesta is quite enough for her, unless the second is in the pram during our habitual early evening winter promenades. La bienheureuse is overworked and travel weary - one night away from home already, a second coming up at the end of the week ('team-building' event) and another next week. Two whole days without seeing her little angel is tough.
Meanwhile, last weekend we celebrated a couple of anniversaries. The youngest member of the family reached 10 months (able to stand for a few seconds unsupported already), and her parents notched up ten whole years in France. How time flies...
31 décembre 2011
Climbing high
And so ten days of eating, drinking and chasing baby began. In three short weeks, hesitant crawling had became high speed scampering, on either hands and knees or hands and feet depending on floor surface. Favourite game: sticking something forbidden in the mouth, waiting for maman or papa to say no before gleefully turning round and scampering off, not without a brief pause to see if anyone was giving chase. And in a few days granny's stairs had been clambered up and conquered. First serious tumble probably not too far away…
Meanwhile, the festive break took its normal course, give or take a baby consideration or two. Porridge breakfast and then an internationally flavoured Christmas lunch chez le beau-frère in Wales, with visitors from England, France and the USA and a bit of Lebanese home cooking mixed in with the usual turkey lunch. I wasn't so lucky with strikes on Boxing Day, the London Underground version putting paid to my hopes of a visit to the home of good football. The postponed match was played the following day, clashing with the clan visit, which naturally took precedence. A full house bar two dogs and a sister-in-law was treated to tartiflette and apple crumble before a teenage night out took precedence in turn and cut short the visit of the east Cheshire hordes. The anticipated cascade of presents for granddaughter, niece and little cousin respectively was of moderate proportions, even if la grand-mère kept her promise of not going overboard by presenting a whole box of toys before Christmas day. For use when petite-fille is visiting, therefore not Christmas presents, you understand…
The following day dawned bright but chilly. La soeur, le petit frère, la cuñada & I left three generations of S-ladies behind and ventured to Bickerton Hill for a not-so-brisk walk in the brisk wind. Momentary confusion about the way back to the car was eventually resolved by a GPS-equipped mobile. Technology sometimes has its uses, even if following our noses would probably have got us home too…
Two days before the final one of the year, the last of the visitors left, and la petite famille and la grand-mère made another afternoon visit to a former pub, current Welsh residence of uncle, aunt and two large canine cousins. Today, la bienheureuse et la belle-mère dragged themselves out in the rain for a sales shopping trip to Chester, leaving papa et fille to resume old habits…
Meanwhile, the festive break took its normal course, give or take a baby consideration or two. Porridge breakfast and then an internationally flavoured Christmas lunch chez le beau-frère in Wales, with visitors from England, France and the USA and a bit of Lebanese home cooking mixed in with the usual turkey lunch. I wasn't so lucky with strikes on Boxing Day, the London Underground version putting paid to my hopes of a visit to the home of good football. The postponed match was played the following day, clashing with the clan visit, which naturally took precedence. A full house bar two dogs and a sister-in-law was treated to tartiflette and apple crumble before a teenage night out took precedence in turn and cut short the visit of the east Cheshire hordes. The anticipated cascade of presents for granddaughter, niece and little cousin respectively was of moderate proportions, even if la grand-mère kept her promise of not going overboard by presenting a whole box of toys before Christmas day. For use when petite-fille is visiting, therefore not Christmas presents, you understand…
The following day dawned bright but chilly. La soeur, le petit frère, la cuñada & I left three generations of S-ladies behind and ventured to Bickerton Hill for a not-so-brisk walk in the brisk wind. Momentary confusion about the way back to the car was eventually resolved by a GPS-equipped mobile. Technology sometimes has its uses, even if following our noses would probably have got us home too…
Two days before the final one of the year, the last of the visitors left, and la petite famille and la grand-mère made another afternoon visit to a former pub, current Welsh residence of uncle, aunt and two large canine cousins. Today, la bienheureuse et la belle-mère dragged themselves out in the rain for a sales shopping trip to Chester, leaving papa et fille to resume old habits…
24 décembre 2011
Striking lucky
The weekend before Christmas, four days before we were due to fly to Blighty for a two week holiday, security personnel at some French airports decided to go on strike. For some reason Lyon airport was the worst hit (because or in spite of all the security staff being supplied by Brinks) and two days before our departure, the Stansted flight was cancelled. Big sigh of relief therefore, when the next day all flights were assured, thanks to the airport bringing in staff from "elsewhere" (unspecified). Bigger sigh of relief on Wednesday when the same thing happened, only change being that we were advised to arrive early and that our flight was leaving from the Air France terminal rather than the (newly rebuilt) low-cost terminal. So, we duly turned up at the airport (via tram, a surprisingly smooth journey with baby, pram and assorted luggage) three hours before departure, and joined the long queue to check in - long but fast moving queue, followed by another long but equally fast moving queue at security.
In the end we were through to the departure lounge a full two hours before the flight was due to leave. First time I've ever been through security at an airport and never seen anyone stopped for a hand luggage search. Airport authorities and the government claimed that security of passengers was fully assured. Hmm, not convinced, but not complaining either as it all led to a rather more pleasant journey than normal - Air France personnel at the gate meant the usual strict Easyjet hand baggage policy was ignored; and there was an air bridge to the plane rather than walk in the rain across the tarmac; and no ten minute slog from security to the departure gates as is the case at the new low-cost terminal.
We thus arrived in Cambridge in good spirits early in the evening, reintroduced the new all-crawling, all-climbing bundle of energy to Prof Margarita and Ms Beaucoup, put her to bed and then enjoyed a tasty salmon dinner and wine chez the convivial builder.
The next morning it was onwards and northwards as we left Cambridgeshire and head to Cheshire once more. Four hours later, unscheduled stop to calm screaming baby included, we arrived chez la grand-mère and the build-up to Christmas commenced in fine style with mince pies and roast ham welcoming us.
In the end we were through to the departure lounge a full two hours before the flight was due to leave. First time I've ever been through security at an airport and never seen anyone stopped for a hand luggage search. Airport authorities and the government claimed that security of passengers was fully assured. Hmm, not convinced, but not complaining either as it all led to a rather more pleasant journey than normal - Air France personnel at the gate meant the usual strict Easyjet hand baggage policy was ignored; and there was an air bridge to the plane rather than walk in the rain across the tarmac; and no ten minute slog from security to the departure gates as is the case at the new low-cost terminal.
We thus arrived in Cambridge in good spirits early in the evening, reintroduced the new all-crawling, all-climbing bundle of energy to Prof Margarita and Ms Beaucoup, put her to bed and then enjoyed a tasty salmon dinner and wine chez the convivial builder.
The next morning it was onwards and northwards as we left Cambridgeshire and head to Cheshire once more. Four hours later, unscheduled stop to calm screaming baby included, we arrived chez la grand-mère and the build-up to Christmas commenced in fine style with mince pies and roast ham welcoming us.
04 janvier 2011
Loose ends
Hangovers were pushed to the back on News Year's Day with a visit to Les Halles, where la cuñada and I feasted on oysters, prawns and Chablis while the others watched. The afternoon was spent recovering, with leftover duck on the menu for dinner. Sunday was an even lazier day, apart from our guests rousing themselves early to do the croissant run and purchase tartiflette provisions for dinner. A day of snoozing and DVD watching.
Monday la bienheureuse was technically back at work, though at home, her boss having granted permission for home working for the final two weeks before confinement. While la belle-mère busied herself with some sewing, our other guests decided they ought to do some more sightseeing. I acted as demanding guide on a wide-ranging round tour - Bellecour, Vieux Lyon, Places Celestins & Jacobins, le mur des lyonnais and a gruelling ascent to the Croix Rousse. Then a steep descent to the banks of the Rhône where little legs decided they were too tired for a further detour via the park.
La bienheureuse and I had another antenatal session in the early evening, so once breathing and pushing were mastered we met the others for a farewell dinner at Les Oliviers. Thanks to our generous guests for a lovely meal and visit.
This morning I was up early to go and consult a man about a rear end checkup and home in time to see off our visitors as they headed towards the station via a cheese and meat lunch in Les Halles. Quiet re-descends, leaving us to contemplate a busy few days and a busy year.
In the wider world, a few stories were in the process of winding up towards the end of the old year. Bettencourt mere et fille called a truce in their inheritance war, though the richest woman in France is still facing investigation over tax evasion. Meanwhile, recriminations over the way the country grinds to a halt in bad weather continue (sound familiar?), and the investigation into the Karachi affair rumbles on.
Monday la bienheureuse was technically back at work, though at home, her boss having granted permission for home working for the final two weeks before confinement. While la belle-mère busied herself with some sewing, our other guests decided they ought to do some more sightseeing. I acted as demanding guide on a wide-ranging round tour - Bellecour, Vieux Lyon, Places Celestins & Jacobins, le mur des lyonnais and a gruelling ascent to the Croix Rousse. Then a steep descent to the banks of the Rhône where little legs decided they were too tired for a further detour via the park.
La bienheureuse and I had another antenatal session in the early evening, so once breathing and pushing were mastered we met the others for a farewell dinner at Les Oliviers. Thanks to our generous guests for a lovely meal and visit.
This morning I was up early to go and consult a man about a rear end checkup and home in time to see off our visitors as they headed towards the station via a cheese and meat lunch in Les Halles. Quiet re-descends, leaving us to contemplate a busy few days and a busy year.
In the wider world, a few stories were in the process of winding up towards the end of the old year. Bettencourt mere et fille called a truce in their inheritance war, though the richest woman in France is still facing investigation over tax evasion. Meanwhile, recriminations over the way the country grinds to a halt in bad weather continue (sound familiar?), and the investigation into the Karachi affair rumbles on.
01 janvier 2011
New Year revisited
More guests arrived two days before the nouvel an. I met le petit frère and la new cuñada at Part Dieu early on Wednesday evening and dragged them and suitcases back to the apartment where succulent lamb tajine and a bottle of champagne awaited. Unsurprisingly, it was midday before the fast was broken and we were ready to head out for a tourist stroll through Lyon. Up to Fourvière (senior citizens and pregnant women via the funicular, the more able-bodied via a slog up the 399 steps and hill) for a look at the view and basilica, then back down to the old town via the Roman amphitheatre. A very late lunch in A La Traboule where the entrées were filling enough to serve as an entire meal. Then back home via Places Terreaux and Lyautey. Siestas and a light quiche and salad dinner followed.
Lazy last day of the year, which we'll blame on a headache the sufferer put down to eye problems. Or vice versa. Fortunately the pain was gone by the evening, to allow full participation in celebrating the coming of the new year. Double roast duck with sausage, apple and chestnut stuffing for dinner, followed by a second Christmas as presents were exchanged, mostly in one direction and mostly baby related. Two bottles of champagne and a red wine or two later, we were all enjoying a magnetic game. The new year was seen in with party poppers and roman candles, and the building almost burnt down. The new year was more than 2 hours old by the time we all fell into bed. Even la bienheureuse managed to last until one.
Lazy last day of the year, which we'll blame on a headache the sufferer put down to eye problems. Or vice versa. Fortunately the pain was gone by the evening, to allow full participation in celebrating the coming of the new year. Double roast duck with sausage, apple and chestnut stuffing for dinner, followed by a second Christmas as presents were exchanged, mostly in one direction and mostly baby related. Two bottles of champagne and a red wine or two later, we were all enjoying a magnetic game. The new year was seen in with party poppers and roman candles, and the building almost burnt down. The new year was more than 2 hours old by the time we all fell into bed. Even la bienheureuse managed to last until one.
28 décembre 2010
Festive excess
Christmas morning dawned cold, dark and white: about 2cm of snow on the ground. Excuse to stay in the warm and devote the day to cooking and overeating. La petite oie was stuffed at both ends (forcemeat, apple & prunes), and by mid afternoon so were we: prawn & salmon, roast goose & stuffing, braised red cabbage, roast potato & parsnip, plum pudding. And a bit of wine & bubbly: zero to fourteen percent. A magnetic game attracted amusement and repelled logic.
Boxing Sunday, a gesture towards working off some of the excess was shortened by the biting Mistral, blowing down the Rhône valley. Wind chill turned -2 into -10 and encouraged an about turn a couple of bridges downstream. Back in the warm we feasted on leftovers. Monday, la bienheureuse passed on her cold, and took la belle-mère to get some more exercise by shopping in the warm of an indoor arcade, leaving me to welcome a plumber grumpy about doing a job for a third of his initial quote. Took him three hours too. Ho ho ho.
Meanwhile I nursed le rhume to full fury and fretted over the evening angst to come. The closure of the Wallace for the holidays prompted a late attempt to gain permission to watch the match chez the absent voisins whose key we possess. Permission only arrived after the event, but all was right on the night: sufficient internet streams found to witness most of the triumph against the blue enemy.
This morning, the alarm rudely interrupted a succession of lie-ins. Monthly checkup number eight beckoned. Sixty minutes after the appointed hour, the wise woman finally checked la bienheureuse and bump, pronounced all well apart from slightly elevated blood pressure, and frowned sternly when a skiing holiday a month before term was mentioned. She didn't say no, though…
Boxing Sunday, a gesture towards working off some of the excess was shortened by the biting Mistral, blowing down the Rhône valley. Wind chill turned -2 into -10 and encouraged an about turn a couple of bridges downstream. Back in the warm we feasted on leftovers. Monday, la bienheureuse passed on her cold, and took la belle-mère to get some more exercise by shopping in the warm of an indoor arcade, leaving me to welcome a plumber grumpy about doing a job for a third of his initial quote. Took him three hours too. Ho ho ho.
Meanwhile I nursed le rhume to full fury and fretted over the evening angst to come. The closure of the Wallace for the holidays prompted a late attempt to gain permission to watch the match chez the absent voisins whose key we possess. Permission only arrived after the event, but all was right on the night: sufficient internet streams found to witness most of the triumph against the blue enemy.
This morning, the alarm rudely interrupted a succession of lie-ins. Monthly checkup number eight beckoned. Sixty minutes after the appointed hour, the wise woman finally checked la bienheureuse and bump, pronounced all well apart from slightly elevated blood pressure, and frowned sternly when a skiing holiday a month before term was mentioned. She didn't say no, though…
24 décembre 2010
Preparations
Most of the week seems to have been about getting ready for one thing and another. Tidying the house to welcome la belle-mère; finally getting a faulty cable TV box replaced; provisions shopping for the feast day; accepting more hand-me-downs, and attending more medical rendezvous in preparation for the big B-day. With a bit of football thrown in at the side.
Sunday evening we were invited to the neighbours again to watch le grand choque, l'Olympico as they've taken to calling it: Olympique de Marseille contre Olympique Lyonnais. La bienheureuse pleaded tiredness, leaving me to enjoy a couple of beers with the boys. And Babe the Unblog & babes. First half goal for the away team, things were looking good for les gones, but OM equalised and the resulting drawn left neither team happy. Another 1-1 draw on Wednesday night, witnessed in person at a Gerland basking in double figure temperatures. This time the away team, Auxerre, was rather happier with the result.
Third trimester echographie on Tuesday, all looking good apart from too much swimming water; Wednesday, a lesson in relaxation chez la sage-femme. Thursday la belle-mère arrived and we immediately dragged her out in the pouring rain to les Halles. Result of the shopping expedition: a 3kg goose, salmon and prawns. Mouth already watering in anticipation of an over-indulgent Christmas meal.
Today the weather is trying to get into the mood, by swirling a few snow flurries our way. Not sticking though, due to ground super-heated by 16 degree temperatures on Wednesday. See-saw winter.
Sunday evening we were invited to the neighbours again to watch le grand choque, l'Olympico as they've taken to calling it: Olympique de Marseille contre Olympique Lyonnais. La bienheureuse pleaded tiredness, leaving me to enjoy a couple of beers with the boys. And Babe the Unblog & babes. First half goal for the away team, things were looking good for les gones, but OM equalised and the resulting drawn left neither team happy. Another 1-1 draw on Wednesday night, witnessed in person at a Gerland basking in double figure temperatures. This time the away team, Auxerre, was rather happier with the result.
Third trimester echographie on Tuesday, all looking good apart from too much swimming water; Wednesday, a lesson in relaxation chez la sage-femme. Thursday la belle-mère arrived and we immediately dragged her out in the pouring rain to les Halles. Result of the shopping expedition: a 3kg goose, salmon and prawns. Mouth already watering in anticipation of an over-indulgent Christmas meal.
Today the weather is trying to get into the mood, by swirling a few snow flurries our way. Not sticking though, due to ground super-heated by 16 degree temperatures on Wednesday. See-saw winter.
19 décembre 2010
Cancelled out
The big freeze duly put paid to my Friday evening flight to Stansted, though it wasn't entirely clear why. There was a heavy snow shower while I travelled to the airport, and an inch or two on the ground there, but most other flights seemed to get away fine. I suspect the budget airlines would rather cough up refunds and subject their staff to irate passengers than risk getting their aircraft stuck in the wrong places. After vainly spending 3 uninformed hours at the airport I was as irate as the next passenger (though not as angry as some Marrakech holidaymakers whose flight was eventually cancelled nearly 5 hours after it was due to depart), but 12 hours later curses turned to thanks when the match at the holy ground was postponed less than 3 hours before kickoff. Merci, le grand froid britannique.
I've thus been able to spend a relaxing and lazy weekend chez moi watching ma bien-aimée put up Christmas decorations. The apartment has also suddenly filled up with enough tiny items of clothing to dress triplets, thanks to some exceedingly generous neighbours. Also taking up space is a cot, which they suddenly wanted us to take off their hands because newly acquired bunk beds took up far more space in their kids' room than expected. This after attending our first prenatal session on Friday morning. The coming event has abruptly become more tangible…
I've thus been able to spend a relaxing and lazy weekend chez moi watching ma bien-aimée put up Christmas decorations. The apartment has also suddenly filled up with enough tiny items of clothing to dress triplets, thanks to some exceedingly generous neighbours. Also taking up space is a cot, which they suddenly wanted us to take off their hands because newly acquired bunk beds took up far more space in their kids' room than expected. This after attending our first prenatal session on Friday morning. The coming event has abruptly become more tangible…
05 janvier 2009
Festive excesses
Twelve days of Christmas back in Blighty passed quickly and quietly with maximum food intake. No sooner had la bienheureuse returned from a weekend in Paris with sa mère, than we were packing for the 770km drive to Calais. An 8.30am departure from Lyon got us to the ferry terminal at 3.30pm, just in time to catch the crossing one earlier than booked. No traffic on the autoroutes, and surprisingly little the other side of La Manche. Even the M25 at 5pm was flowing freely. Wonders will never cease, though the accident that had blocked the anticlockwise carriage several junctions earlier may have had something to do with it...
Whatever, we were in Cambridge by 6.30, for home-cooked dinner with the Margarita Man. Mild hangover the next morning was no more than we expected, and didn't impinge on the drive north to Cheshire. Brief stopover to visit les nièces et neveux, before arriving chez la belle-mère early on Christmas Eve for a special treat - Christmas Pudding!
Christmas day dawned bright and frosty, like most other days during the holiday, and was spent chez le beau-frère, who as usual was chef for the day. And as usual, he produced enough food to feed an army of relatives rather than the mere eight present. Despite heroic efforts, notably on the part of his beau-père and two greedy labradors, turkey leftovers seem likely to be on the menu for weeks to come.
After lunch, once digestion was sufficiently advanced to allow movement, the exchange of gifts took place. In my case, exchange is a relative term, as I always seem to receive a lot more than I give. But it would seem impolite to demur, so I never do. And for once someone else got more than bargained for. La belle-mère du beau-frère (even in French there's no simple term for the mother-in-law of one's brother-in-law) was delighted and horrified in equal measure to be given a life-sized black bear (stuffed of course).
Boxing day we returned to east Cheshire to distribute presents to les nièces et neveux, meeting up with le frère ainé at the same time. As most of the rest of the day was spent playing racing car games on a games console with a name bearing a close resemblance to a bodily function, no prizes for guessing what theme most of the presents came with. All raced out, in the evening we formed a more sedate convoy with le frère for the drive back across Cheshire.
The following day was one of the best of the holiday. La bienheureuse et la belle-mère packed le frère et moi off to undertake a brisk 3 hour stomp along the Sandstone Trail, while they meandered round Beeston Castle and retired to the pub to await us drinking mulled wine in front of a roaring fire. The 7 mile walk however was worth braving the sub-zero temperatures for. With the sun shining down from a clear blue sky on a countryside covered in frost, some of the scenery was spectacular. And we reached the pub in time for a late, very late lunch and more mulled wine.
Sunday was the day set aside to celebrate two milestones - la quarantaine de la bienheureuse (again) and la cinquantaine du frère ainé. La bienheureuse celebrated in her own fashion by staying at home with her mother to cook the evening meal for ten, while my 50-year old brother and I swanned off to meet the rest of the available family at Delamere Forest. When we eventually all got there we enjoyed a pleasant stroll through the trees in the golden late afternoon sunshine, and had fun skipping stones across the frozen lake. Easy to skip stones on ice, you might say, but the principal attraction for doing so was the musical resonance of the ice as the stones skipped across it. So there.
As dusk fell we formed a three car convoy back to east Cheshire where the cassoulet feast cooked by la bienheureuse et la belle-mère awaited us. And the food and party, complete with party hats, crackers and presents (including my favourite of all - a hamper of Marmite and English cheese), was much enjoyed by all. Though exactly how many of the clean plates were due to parental command only the interested parties know. Thanks are due to la belle-mère for providing us with the venue.
Le frère et la soeur returned from whence they came the following day, and la bienheureuse, la belle-mère et moi enjoyed a quiet time over the next couple of days, filled mainly with eating, sleeping and another visit to north Wales to view the soon to be acquired woods of prospective landowner le beau-frère. New Year's Eve was quiet too, though I made the mistake of suggesting we teach la belle-mère how to play tête-de-merde. My disastrous run of luck continued over from Saba to the point where my first new year's resolution ought to have been to never play the wretched game again. But it wasn't...
On the second day of the new year it was time to kiss la belle-mère goodbye and head back down south. After another stopover chez le jardinier in Cambridge and a traditional pub, beer and curry evening, on Saturday it was time to visit the new home of football for the first time since early November. Warmed by the somewhat stuttering but ultimately satisfactory victory over the Pilgrims, we headed down to Kent for an overnight stay chez les docteurs C, ate more curry and drank more wine, and then were up at 7.30 the following morning for the long drive home. 900 odd kilometres and eleven hours later we were back, in a cold apartment and an even colder Lyon. And it's forecast to get colder...
Whatever, we were in Cambridge by 6.30, for home-cooked dinner with the Margarita Man. Mild hangover the next morning was no more than we expected, and didn't impinge on the drive north to Cheshire. Brief stopover to visit les nièces et neveux, before arriving chez la belle-mère early on Christmas Eve for a special treat - Christmas Pudding!
Christmas day dawned bright and frosty, like most other days during the holiday, and was spent chez le beau-frère, who as usual was chef for the day. And as usual, he produced enough food to feed an army of relatives rather than the mere eight present. Despite heroic efforts, notably on the part of his beau-père and two greedy labradors, turkey leftovers seem likely to be on the menu for weeks to come.
After lunch, once digestion was sufficiently advanced to allow movement, the exchange of gifts took place. In my case, exchange is a relative term, as I always seem to receive a lot more than I give. But it would seem impolite to demur, so I never do. And for once someone else got more than bargained for. La belle-mère du beau-frère (even in French there's no simple term for the mother-in-law of one's brother-in-law) was delighted and horrified in equal measure to be given a life-sized black bear (stuffed of course).
Boxing day we returned to east Cheshire to distribute presents to les nièces et neveux, meeting up with le frère ainé at the same time. As most of the rest of the day was spent playing racing car games on a games console with a name bearing a close resemblance to a bodily function, no prizes for guessing what theme most of the presents came with. All raced out, in the evening we formed a more sedate convoy with le frère for the drive back across Cheshire.
The following day was one of the best of the holiday. La bienheureuse et la belle-mère packed le frère et moi off to undertake a brisk 3 hour stomp along the Sandstone Trail, while they meandered round Beeston Castle and retired to the pub to await us drinking mulled wine in front of a roaring fire. The 7 mile walk however was worth braving the sub-zero temperatures for. With the sun shining down from a clear blue sky on a countryside covered in frost, some of the scenery was spectacular. And we reached the pub in time for a late, very late lunch and more mulled wine.
Sunday was the day set aside to celebrate two milestones - la quarantaine de la bienheureuse (again) and la cinquantaine du frère ainé. La bienheureuse celebrated in her own fashion by staying at home with her mother to cook the evening meal for ten, while my 50-year old brother and I swanned off to meet the rest of the available family at Delamere Forest. When we eventually all got there we enjoyed a pleasant stroll through the trees in the golden late afternoon sunshine, and had fun skipping stones across the frozen lake. Easy to skip stones on ice, you might say, but the principal attraction for doing so was the musical resonance of the ice as the stones skipped across it. So there.
As dusk fell we formed a three car convoy back to east Cheshire where the cassoulet feast cooked by la bienheureuse et la belle-mère awaited us. And the food and party, complete with party hats, crackers and presents (including my favourite of all - a hamper of Marmite and English cheese), was much enjoyed by all. Though exactly how many of the clean plates were due to parental command only the interested parties know. Thanks are due to la belle-mère for providing us with the venue.
Le frère et la soeur returned from whence they came the following day, and la bienheureuse, la belle-mère et moi enjoyed a quiet time over the next couple of days, filled mainly with eating, sleeping and another visit to north Wales to view the soon to be acquired woods of prospective landowner le beau-frère. New Year's Eve was quiet too, though I made the mistake of suggesting we teach la belle-mère how to play tête-de-merde. My disastrous run of luck continued over from Saba to the point where my first new year's resolution ought to have been to never play the wretched game again. But it wasn't...
On the second day of the new year it was time to kiss la belle-mère goodbye and head back down south. After another stopover chez le jardinier in Cambridge and a traditional pub, beer and curry evening, on Saturday it was time to visit the new home of football for the first time since early November. Warmed by the somewhat stuttering but ultimately satisfactory victory over the Pilgrims, we headed down to Kent for an overnight stay chez les docteurs C, ate more curry and drank more wine, and then were up at 7.30 the following morning for the long drive home. 900 odd kilometres and eleven hours later we were back, in a cold apartment and an even colder Lyon. And it's forecast to get colder...
13 décembre 2007
Winter is here
Rather chilly in Lyon at the moment, which, added to the heaviest snowfall in the Alps for 11 years, persuaded us to book an overnight stay in the mountains this weekend. The excuse is to celebrate l'anniversaire de la bienheureuse. First time we'll have been skiing before Christmas & led to me spending a not-so happy hour in the car yesterday, taking the skis to be serviced. Part of my campaign to avoid doing any Christmas shopping, but I almost regretted it. The Lyon streets yesterday were full of daft drivers (in addition to me), road works and double-parked cars. Then had to spend more than 60 euros filling up. Next time I'll get the bus...
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