Fogged up

Winter weariness continues, seasonal sickness recurs yet again. La bienheureuse returned from frozen Finland with lungs and sinuses all clogged up. A visit to the doctor resulted in a referral to hospital for tests. Four hours spent at Croix Rousse urgences having a swab shoved up a nostril, seemingly as far as the brain, and various needles jabbed into the arms for blood tests resulted in an all-clear for flu but confirmation of bacterial infection.

Thus, another course of antibiotics is in progress. Meanwhile, la petite has picked up yet another cold and, just as papa thought he could see good health in sight, he too succumbed anew. Cough, cough. We yearn for the sun and warmth of spring.

The old fool didn't help his health by indulging an addiction with another trip across the Channel. Quel cauchemar. Monday evening the phone rings and British Airways inform me my flight at the nice relaxed time of eleven thirty in the morning has been cancelled because of bad weather. Alternatives offered: 7am or six in the evening, the latter too late to get me to the match on time. 

Thus, I was up (after a night of little sleep) and making my bleary-eyed way through fog-bound Lyon to the airport at 5am in the morning. Fog at Heathrow was ostensibly the reason of the cancellation of the original flight. Surely in this day and age planes can take off and land in fog? Of course they can. An overheard conversation with the pilot of the 7am flight revealed that the later, less full flight, was probably just cancelled to avoid the knock-on delays that fog can, however, cause. Thanks, BA, think I'll stick to budget airlines next time.
 
Sure enough, fog blanketed London, but only the north and east. Heathrow itself was completely clear, and I thus found myself in sunny central London by 10am with a whole day to waste. And waste it I did, watching Bond fall from the sky, spending vouchers on childrens' books, having a leisurely lunch and then an extended pre-match dinner in the pub with le grand gooner. And then wasted the next two hours watching the misfiring Gunners being taught a lesson by a well-oiled Bavarian machine. The football season is all but over. Would that the winter season would end so abruptly.

And to cap it all, the flight home was full of enemy Spuds, coming over for tonight's match against OL. Though perhaps I ought to use the word enemy more advisedly. Enemy in the 'friendly' sporting rivalry sense. English fans were apparently attacked last night in a couple of pubs in Vieux Lyon that I've frequented on more than one occasion myself. Reports suggest that they were deliberately targeted by an extreme right group rather than opposition fans. I was thinking of going to watch the match - think I might watch it on TV instead. Too cold to watch football live anyway...

Ups and downs

The respite from winter malady was all too brief. During the blighted trip to Blighty, my cough gradually got worse. Two days later I spent the day lying in front of the TV or in bed, and was driven to the doctor's surgery. For the following week antibiotics and anti-inflammatories coursed through my system, and happily seem to have more or less done the trick. Only worries now are the cough that refuses to go away chez moi, yet another in a seemingly unending procession of minor colds chez la petite actuelle, and a minor anomaly in one kidney chez la petite à venir.

Elsewhere, on foreign fields, the ups and downs also continue. A tendency to play only the second 45 minutes of each match proved enough to down the Swans and the Seagulls in the FA cup, but not enough to overcome the blue Russian not-so-nouveau riche of west London. On fields closer to home, the season for les gones has also been a bit up and down. Beaten on penalties in the first round of the French cup by a team two divisions lower (sounds familiar), but playing yo-yo with PSG and OM at the top of Ligue, OL currently lie second on goal difference to the Qatari-funded Parisians.

Talking of which (Qatari-funded sporting concerns, that is) today's edition of France Football magazine is effectively claiming the decision to award the 2022 World Cup was purchased. Not a new accusation, but what is new is the allegation that Sarkozy and Michel Platini met secretly with the Qatari crown prince ten days before Qatar was awarded the World Cup. Allegedly, the Qataris were promised the French vote in return for buying PSG and funding the new French sports channel that is currently threatening the TV football hegemony previously enjoyed France by Canal+, who Sarko viewed as a thorn in his side…

Correspondent reports

Nappy changing report: further progress, la petite now more or less happily lies down to don new diaper, but still prefers upright bum-cleaning. Latest quirks include excitedly burrowing under the duvet on parents' bed, and jumping off every kerb and low-level window ledge between home and playground or crèche. How to turn two minute walks into half hour marathons.

Health report: youngest member of the family in bouncing good form, older couple suffering from various bugs, latest of the gastric variety. Mine was a mere 6 hour variant, albeit virulent enough to bring back bad pre-colonoscopy laxative memories. La bienheureuse then either caught it off me, reacted to my cooking or caught an entirely different virus, and suffered for rather longer, encompassing an overnight work trip to Basle. All rear ends squeaky clean now though…

Weather report: a brief cold snap two weeks ago was followed by ten days of unseasonably mild weather, though with only rare glimpses of sunshine. Last weekend it all changed - maximum of 7 degrees, a full 17 lower than 7 days previously. Winter's icy tentacles are reaching Lyon...

State of the nation report: not good. Approval ratings for president and prime minister at all time low, economy stagnant, taxes on the rise, discontent rumbling. Not that any other new government could have done any better, but the Socialists don't seem to make things easy for themselves. Latest example of some government spokesman or other shooting themselves in the foot was PM Ayrault apparently saying going back to a 39 hour working week wouldn't be ruled out, going against a Socialist policy set in stone. Cue criticism and clarification from fellow PS members, and immediate "we told you so" shouts from opposition UMP politicians.

There was an interesting article on the BBC news site a couple of weeks ago, comparing the mood in France with that in Britain. Unabated Gallic pessimism vs cautious British optimism, was the gist of the article, despite the two economies being in roughly the same leaking boats. Partly down to the Olympic effect, partly down the national psyche…?

Sporting report: could do better, much better. After an optimistic start to the season, nasty November appeared to arrive in October for the glorious Gunners. Two abject defeats were followed by a hard-won, slightly fortuitous victory against the new-boy Hoops. I'd like to think my presence made the difference, as I made my first solo cross-Channel flight of the season. Habitual convivial hospitality provided by my usual hosts, victory witnessed first hand, splendid couple of days all in all. Meanwhile la bienheureuse et la petite survived without me.

And then there was last night's extraordinary events at what they apparently call the Mad Stad. For good reason too it would seem. Able as I was to witness it live on TV (having spent - wasted as I thought at the time - 11 euros to subscribe to a new sports channel in order to watch the Champions League match against Schalke, defeat no 2 noted above), I ended the evening unsure whether to laugh or cry. Entertainment it was, top class football it certainly wasn't. Perhaps I should rationalise it by saying it was the reserves after all, though I did wonder for while whether they'd gone to Hackney Marshes last Sunday and found 11 lookalikes...

On the Lyon playing field, OL have also had a slightly mixed start to the season, this time entirely unwitnessed by your local correspondent. For the first time in 9 years, I don't have an abonnement. Story of renewal deadline coinciding with UK holiday, less motivation, less time due to toddler demands, etc, etc.. At least I can still follow them on TV now and then.

Damp squibs

Unlike in England the previous weekend, the football championship in France was rather gratifying won on Sunday by minnows Montpellier, who finished three points clear of the Qatari-funded Parisians. PSG won their final game at Lorient but then had to wait half an hour for Montpellier's match at already-relegated Auxerre to finish, after irate Auxerre fans twice interrupted the match with a barrage of smoke bombs, toilet rolls and tennis balls being thrown onto the pitch. Undeterred, the relatively impoverished men from the Herault held their nerve to win 2-1 despite going behind early in the match. In French football at least, money isn't yet everything...

Meanwhile I was at Gerland in the pouring rain, being kept up to date with events elsewhere by a neighbour with a smart phone, to watch Lyon's final game end in an entertaining 4-3 defeat to Nice. Strange match, perhaps not surprisingly given that OL already knew they could finish no higher and no lower than fourth, and that Nice needed three points to be sure of avoiding relegation. It rather neatly summed up a mixed season - lowest league place for 11 years but a trophy, the French Cup. Nice hit the woodwork three times in the first twenty minutes, only to find OL making the most of their chances and going 2-0 up. An inexperienced central defence then allowed the visitors to equalise and then take the lead in the second half with a rare Lloris error. Stung into action, les gones equalised and threatened the winner only to allow the Nice centre-forward to run through all the way from his own half and score.

Back on the home front, we enjoyed a quiet first weekend in three en famille, even if the weather was mixed in the extreme. Pleasant sunshine early on Saturday afternoon enticed la bienheureuse et la petite out for a shopping trip. New stock of toys duly purchased they made for home at the same time as the heavens opened, throwing down rain, lightning and hail. Rather large hailstones at that, but rather surprisingly a flimsy umbrella protected both mes bien-aimées.

A similar story on Sunday. Warm sunshine in the morning dragged us out to the market before the rain started coming down early in the afternoon. That didn't stop la petite coquinette from fetching shoes, her way of demanding to be taken out, and her mother duly obliged. No stay-at-home girl that little one. And the rain has barely stopped since. Summer is still dragging its heels...

Affecting guests

And so, our two guests' visit to Lyon started off with both their hosts somewhat indisposed by illness. La bienheureuse passed the stomach bug on to yours truly only to succumb anew to the recurrent chest and sinus infection and pay another visit to the doctor. Fortunately, the person tia y prima had really come to see was a picture of health and her usual, energetic, entertaining self. Also fortunately, the day after we returned was VE day, a bank holiday in France, allowing a relaxed start to the visit.

The next day, la petite star of the show spent the day downstairs chez les voisins as usual, which meant our visitors had no choice but to do a bit of sight-seeing. I had recovered sufficiently from the gastric affliction to take them on a walking tour of Fourvière, Vieux Lyon and the Presqu'île in beautifully warm sunny weather, while la bienheureuse spent another day recuperating at home. Roast chicken was on the menu for dinner, but was cleared of suspicion for the sleepless night spent by the sweet sobrina on multiple visits to the toilet. The vomiting virus had struck again.

La nièce thus spent most of Thursday in bed while the older generation (la travailleuse taking a couple of days of hastily scheduled leave) entertained and was kept entertained by the youngest. By Friday, the ill had recovered sufficiently to walk out in the 30 degree sunshine to have lunch at a riverside café. At least, two of us had a full lunch while another nibbled and the other chased her daughter up and down the quayside. Another group outing in the late afternoon to the playground brought the last full day of our guests' stay in Lyon to an end.

Following an early lunch we all squeezed into la petite voiture for another trip to the airport for a fond goodbye to la cuñada and sweet sobrina. We returned home while they flew back for another few days and university visits in London before heading home to Australia themselves. It seemed quiet chez nous after ten days spent in the company of others. At least, as quiet as it can be with a 14 month old who is going through a phase of constantly chatting to herself and everyone.

On Sunday, the brief appearance of summer exited stage left and temperatures plummeted a full 15 degrees. I thus had an excuse for spending much of the afternoon slumped in front of the TV, first watching cars go in circles, and then watching the dramatic climax to the English Premier League. A seesaw season thus ended with a sigh of relief on my part as Champions League football was assured for the good next year, while evil money triumphed over the devil at the top. Meanwhile, the penultimate games of the French league season ensured that the title goes down to the wire next weekend, and confirmed Europa rather than Champions League football for OL next year.

I woke on Monday morning a little apprehensive about my daughter spending her first day in more than two weeks with only boring old papa for company. I needn't have worried - she was a petit ange all day, and happily chatted and waved to all and sundry during our first solo bike trip to the park. The decision to venture further afield rather than to the usual playground around the corner meant we missed out on the excitement closer to home, where a car ended up in the window of a nearby boulangerie, fortunately without damage to life or limb. Life in Lyon is never dull.

Laboured endings

April is over, thank goodness. April showers made their final bow on Monday with a flourish - prolonged showers that merged into virtual all-day rain that is. In May the sunshine is back, albeit somewhat uncertainly, but we made the most of the dry, milder weather on the second and fourth days of the long weekend by dusting off the bikes and pumping up tyres for the first petites balades à velo for the year. La petite coquinette was a little unsure her new throne with its view of mama's derrière, but was soon smiling once we set off up and down the river. As for April ailments, they seem to be gradually alleviating too. Roll on the summer…

The end of a different type of season is almost in sight too. Olympique Lyonnais will finish a mixed football year with one trophy to show. On Saturday night they laboured to a 1-0 victory in the French Cup Final, to at least partly redeem their abject previous performance at the Stade de France. The heroic feat in defeating the amateurs of Quevilly was deemed worthy of an appearance on the balcony of the Hôtel de Ville on Sunday, where certain players got themselves into trouble by participating in anti-St Etienne chants. The league season meanwhile looks like being somewhat less rewarding, as OL remain 5th (4th if they win a game in hand), outside the Champions League qualification places, 9 points (potentially 6) behind third placed Lille, who beat second placed PSG on Sunday night. Five games to go.

The end of the political season is also close. Sarkozy's current presidential mandate comes to an end next weekend and, at the moment, he looks unlikely to be granted a second. Hollande is still ahead in the polls, and Marine Le Pen announced yesterday that she would vote blank in the next round, 'leaving it to the conscience' of her supporters on how they should vote. The consensus among political commentators seems to be that enough NF voters feel betrayed by Sarko following his election in 2007 to make it unlikely that he'll harvest enough of their support this time round. On verra…

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.

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…

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.

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.

Spring in the step

Winter seems a little further away now. Blazing sunshine most of this week and temperatures creeping towards 15C. Lovely sunny day last Sunday too, in all respects. Though I have to admit I wasn't looking much on the sunny side of life at 2pm that day, more like staring into the abyss, with the red and white forces of good football two goals down to the local enemy. A mere hour later however, a five gun salvo had sounded and all was (almost) right with the world. Even if the previous ten days had seemed like a nightmare.

It all made for a very pleasant weekend jaunt across the Channel. Flight Sunday morning was on time, quick pint with le grand gooner before the game, albeit in the company of a fifth columnist who remained remarkably restrained all the way through the remarkable match, even when his side's second, illicitly obtained, goal hit the back of the net. Just desserts in the end for the diving lily-white though.

Afterwards I made my way south of the river to visit le petit frère & la cuñada numèro dos. Kitchen now finished, witness a very tasty lamb shank dinner, but much of the rest of the house still a work in progress. Monday morning I trekked back to Stansted and thence home, while the two not-so-newly weds oversaw a fireplace installation before heading off for a holiday in the Indian Ocean. Their home for the following 10 days, an infamous hotel, scene of a recent murder. Ooerr…

Meanwhile, back in Lyon, la petite, la mère et la grand-mère enjoyed an all girls weekend. La belle-mére arrived a week ago and was eventually picked up from the airport by her daughter, after a minor panic in the morning. La vieille voiture failed to survive two months of winter idle in the garage. Or more specifically the battery did - completely flat. Friendly local garage (2 minute walk away) started it for a mere 50 euro call-out charge, charged up the battery and then informed us the starter motor needed replacing too, suspected of being the cause of the prematurely flat battery. Total cost, more than 300 euros. Hmm, the old banger had better pass that controle technique this week…

Someone not suffering in the slightest from ignition problems is the little munchkin. The hesitant few steps have now developed into full-blown, confident walking, which now takes precedence over crawling most of the time. Astonishing how much babies develop in a mere 12 months, but no doubt all new parents say that…

Would that her parents were as full of energy. La bienheureuse survived her first trip involving two whole nights and days away from her darling(s), including most of Sunday, necessary for a brainstorming meeting with government authorities and competitor companies. Fortunately a strike somewhat perversely meant she got home four hours earlier than expected, early enough for bath and bedtime. 

Meanwhile the old man exhausted himself in the pursuit of footballing pleasure over the weekend. The seven goal thriller in London on Sunday was preceded by an eight goal nail biter at Gerland on Saturday evening. The oil-rich mercenaries from Paris visited the plucky gones and walked away with the half share of the spoils, after coming back from two goals down in the last 10 minutes, including a last minute of injury time equaliser. Money can almost buy you everything. Still, fifteen goals in total made it an entertaining weekend.

Tottering

The big freeze is over. Maximum daytime temperatures finally crept above freezing on Monday, and minimum temperatures followed suit on Wednesday. Two full weeks of sub-zero temperatures apparently made it the fifth most severe cold snap since 1947, witness the Saône freezing over. Now we are back to normal, cold, dull February weather. Spring still seems a long way away.

It was so cold over the weekend that most Ligue 1 football matches were brought forward from evening to afternoon. It was still perishingly chilly at Gerland at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, where I shivered in a half empty stadium watching Lyon stumble to a 2-1 home defeat against Caen, a team just above the relegation zone. On Valentine's night it was a mild 2C with snow on the ground when I left my two true loves at home and repeated the trip to watch les gones play Apoel Nicosia in the Champions league. One goal was the sum total of 90 minutes of attack vs defence. The UEFA statistics on the big screen kept a running score of shots on goal; OL's total steadily increased to about 20 by the end of the match while the number in the visiting team's column remained stuck on zero until the 89th minute when Lloris was finally called on, and had to make a good save at that. I suspect the return match in Cyprus may be a little more difficult. At least Lyon have a good chance of making the last eight, something that can't be said for my third true love, but I'll skate quickly over that subject.

My little sweetheart is making great strides at the moment. Or, more accurately, small unsteady steps. However she now frequently tries to walk when going from A to B and can totter along upright for a good 7 or 8 steps.

Another small person tottering on the brink is Nicolas Sarkozy. On Tuesday we had confirmation that he would officially announce that he would be running for president the following evening. And on prime time Wednesday night TV the confirmation of the confirmation was finally delivered. He said he'd been considering standing for several weeks. Hmm, several years surely, Monsieur le Président…

Standing alone

Another visit to Monsieur le pédiatre, arranged for a vaccination she probably should have had last visit (do we suspect him of spinning out these visits for financial reasons?) last week saw la not-so-petite push the scales close to 10 kilos, and stand more than 20cm taller than when she was born. Standing is something she now does a lot of, able to stay upright more or less as long as she wants. We've even seen the odd involuntary solo step. Walking is only a few short paces away…

Otherwise it's been a quiet week at home and, as usual, a busy week at work for the travel-weary travailleuse. Another overnight trip to Germany five days ago, another to Milan today followed immediately by yet another to Brussels. Thankfully only one scheduled for next month. Meanwhile the house-husband got a small break from his less onerous duties on Saturday evening with a rare trip to Gerland to watch OL eventually overcome local new-boys Dijon to keep up their decent home form this season. It's away from home that les gones have struggled recently, and the three teams above them in the league all also won over the weekend.

It felt perishingly cold in the stadium on Saturday with the chilly north wind blowing down the neck, but with the temperature close to freezing it was positively balmy compared to the -11C they are forecasting for next Saturday. Pretty cold today with a maximum of about two degrees and the first snow of the winter on the ground in Lyon.

In the wider world, Monsieur le Président made another of his solo appearances on prime time TV to announce more measures to combat la crise financière. Headline grabber was the hike in VAT, the so-called TVA social, which seems a bit of a misnomer to me. The extra tax raised is supposedly to allow reductions in charges levied on businesses, which is supposed to help the recovery from recession. Or just puts more money in the pocket of businessmen, depending on how you look at it…

The increase won't be applied until October, after the elections, and the president's likely opponent and predicted winner, François Hollande has already said he won't apply it. Sarko still hasn't confirmed that he will be standing, and the elections are now less than twelve weeks away. Not quite sure why he's being so coy when everybody and his uncle knows he will. Who else have the ruling party got, after all?

Against the odds

While the rest of England laughs at Manchester, most of France is revelling in the unlikely victories of Lyon and Marseille in the Champions League. Needing to win in Dortmund, OM trailed 2-0 before pulling one back at the end of the first half and scoring twice in the last five minutes to win 3-2. OL's exploit the following night was even more spectacular, clawing back a 7 goal overall deficit to Ajax. The Dutch team duly lost 3-0 to Real Madrid, meaning OL had to win by at least 4 clear goals in Zagreb. And set about it by going 1-0 down before an astonishing second half saw them score six goals in 30 minutes to run out 7-1 winners. Predictably the feat in Croatia is being questioned (it seems mainly by the Dutch and English). Is scoring seven against ten men of a team that failed to gain a single point and conceded an average of three goals in their previous five games really that surprising…?

Meanwhile our own minor miracle is growing up fast. Full crawling, full investigative mode means she can cross the room in 10 seconds flat when something catches her eye. A favourite trick at the moment is to stand up in her cot looking mighty pleased with herself while a bedtime story is being read. We suspect the wide grin has little to do with her enjoyment of the story. She has acquired the knack of pulling herself upright on other items of furniture too, but not yet fully learned that if she grabs something off the sofa or table with both hands she might topple over backwards. Full time vigilance required. Fortunately, at the moment there is a spare pair of eyes, keeping a fond watch. La belle-mère is over and spending more time with her favourite grandchild, when her favourite beau-fils gives her time off from baking mince pies and other tasty nibbles, that is...

Autumn warmth

No sooner home from the warm sunny south than back out again on a balmy late September Lyon evening. Having once again indulged in an OL season ticket, the 4th home game of the season was my first chance to use it. Les gones this season are a different team to last. Gone are the sterile Puel tactics of last year; the new watchword under new coach Remi Garde (who learnt from the maître manager in England) is entertainment. So far so good - OL went into the game 2nd in the table and continued in more or less the same vein with a 3-1 win over Bordeaux.

The Indian summer continued into October apart from a couple of damp days which coincided with the arrival of la belle-mère. Not to worry though, the sunshine and record temperatures soon returned, and Mamy enjoyed a week of her granddaughter's company, sundry sewing chores, copious cup-cake cooking and afternoon perambulator ambles along the sunny banks of the Rhône.

Too soon she reluctantly went home and, just as reluctantly, la bienheureuse followed her to the airport at the start of a hectic week of travelling. Milan on Tuesday and Wednesday, home in the evening just in time for a cuddle before bedtime with la petite, then off to Germany the following morning before baby was awake. Finally home again on Friday evening, with barely time to pause for breath before we all set off for a weekend across the Channel later today, followed by more business travel, for la travaillleuse, across the Irish sea. First flight for la petite coquinette…

Twelve hours

Seven and five makes twelve. Seven pm yesterday, la petite coquinette is put to bed, with minor complaint. And there she stayed until just after seven am today, the day she is five months old. Twelve hours uninterrupted sleep. Well, almost - a couple of brief awakenings at five and six am before settling back to sleep without need for parental intervention. Bliss for said parents, or would have been if either had managed to sleep soundly in the interim instead of subconsciously listening for sounds of distress...

The first attempt at a full night's sleep was aborted on Friday night when she woke up just after 11pm. Papa went in to offer her a small feed and found the little dear jammed sideways in the cot having somehow escaped from her straitjacket. Success duly followed last night. Wonder how long it will continue…

There was a somewhat rude shock a couple of nights earlier when it took la bienheureuse an hour to get her to bed. Followed by more disruption for papa when she refused to go down easily for daytime naps like the little angel she normally is. Guess she's growing up fast…

Meanwhile, the weather got hotter and heavier but last night suddenly broke again with thunderstorms and much cooler, fresher air. And as if to signal that summer is coming to an end, last night the French football season also resumed. The night turned into a highly satisfactory one for OL, winners at Nice while the two big favourites for the league this season failed: PSG (spenders of more middle eastern oil millions during the transfer window than the citizens of Manchester) crashed at home to little Lorient and Marseille could only draw at home with Sochaux. Lyon's transfer activity has so far been notable by its absence. The only newcomer of note (though not really new as he was previously in charge of the youth team) is the new coach Remi Garde who promises much more attacking football than his much-maligned predecessor. So far so good…

Jammed

Lyon was named in a recent survey as the sixth most gridlocked city in Europe, behind London but ahead of Paris. Who would have believed it? Most lyonnais for a start. The recent change to limit speeds on roads in the Presqu'île to 30kph and allow bikes to ride the wrong way down such roads didn't meet with universal approval, and Saturday did nothing improve the mood those trying to drive in the city. A go-slow drive by motorcyclists asserting their right to do as they please on the roads held up traffic in the morning, and then in the afternoon the Gay Pride march brought it to a standstill. As for us, we were pleased to see transvestites holding up traffic as it meant one of those pesky scooter riders didn't get the chance to gun his souped up 50cc engine driving under a bridge that we walk under on our afternoon stroll along the river. La petite thus didn't get rudely awoken from her afternoon nap.

On Sunday we strolled the other way along the river to witness the greening of Place Bellecour, turned from the second largest square in Europe into one of the smallest arable farms. Nature Capitale came to Lyon after Paris and the Champs Elysée last year and New York next. Parcels of wheat, barley, vines, oats and wild flowers were all pleasant enough, but we were left slightly underwhelmed by it all, and la petite was distinctly unimpressed. She slept through the whole thing.

Meanwhile, two of the most inevitable changes in French football occurred over the weekend. The FFF elected a new president to supposedly sweep a new broom through the system following the World Cup debacle, and Claude Puel and OL finally parted company. No more "Puel - demission!" chants at games next season. Not sure the fans will know what to do. The man who "turned OL into a pedal car" is likely to be replaced by the director of the football academy, Remi Garde. Who, of course, has impeccable credentials, having played under the best coach in the world...

Walking out

Life in Lyon with added small person continues in a routine of sorts: feed, sleep, play, feed, sleep, feed, play, walk along the river in the sunshine, feed, sleep, sleepy feed, big sleep. Minor disruptions from time to time, particularly in recent times and particularly towards the end of the afternoon when cranky moods are only resolved with food. Major disruption in just over a week when la bienheureuse is forced to return to earning a living for three. Apprehensive we are, all three…

Medical life resulted in another routine visit to le pédiatre yesterday. Another jab in the thigh, though this time la petite screamed before rather than after. Babies, laws unto themselves. Satisfactory growth observed, 1kg heavier, 2.5cm taller, brain circumference 1.5cm larger.

Sporting life in Lyon received a needed boost last night with victory in the Champions League final for Olympique Lyonnais, female version. Their male counterparts have not done so well, and the not-so-sporting public at Gerland have let them know it. On Saturday evening I trudged along to the last home match of the season, a singularly uninspired 0-0 draw with Caen, which leaves 3rd place in the league and a qualifying spot for next season's Champions League in the balance until the last game of the season on Sunday. Regardless of the result, the fans made their displeasure known before, during and after the match. The self-styled Bad Gones, the lower tier hard core in the Virage Nord, unveiled sarcastic and critical banners and chants (mostly targeting coach Claude Puel - example: 'Puel, the man who transforms a formula one car into a pedal car') throughout the match. Or rather until the 69th minute, when they walked out en-masse (the local paper put the number at 500) in protest at the way the team has performed this season. Talk about supporting your club through thick and thin…

Media life in France is still dominated by l'affaire DSK, which continues to rumble along in the background of every news bulletin, now providing context for two other stories: firstly the candidature of Christine Lagarde to replace DSK at the IMF, and now there is now another sex scandal to share the headlines. Government minister Georges Tron has been accused of sexual harassment by two women who worked under him in the mairie at Draveil, where he is mayor. He denies everything and denounces a far-right plot designed to bring him down because of disagreements he has had in the past with the sister of the leader of the Front National, pointing at the fact that the lawyer for the two alleged victims is a close friend of Marine Le Pen. The latter is in turn threatening to sue Tron for defamation. All good dirty political fun.

Hot visit

The hottest weekend of the year greeted the third baby-visitors of the year. Le beau-frère et la belle-soeur arrived on Friday. The visit soon took on a routine - spend the nights sweating in a hotel room with non-functioning air conditioning, spend the days cooling in the apartment and chilling with their new and unique niece. In between the eating, drinking, playing, and afternoon strolls along the river, there was just about time for a chocolate-buying visit to Les Halles on Saturday morning, a stroll through the craft market and an ice-cream on Sunday morning. All too soon Monday afternoon came round, and it was time to return to their own children, canine variety.

And then there were three once more. La petite continues to grow, grin and occasionally grizzle. Sleeping through the night also continues, with just the occasional hiccup, though coming between 5 and 6am, they aren't really hiccups to complain about.

On the field, ignoring painful events across the Channel, the French championship retains the interest. The battle of the Olympiques on Sunday produced a dramatic game. Les Gones went 2-0 up after les Marseillais were wrongly denied an opening goal, the visitors then got it back to 2-2 before a late winner sent Gerland into rare raptures and just about kept OL in the title hunt. Next round over the next two days...

Elsewhere, the French football quota storm is starting to blow itself out. Coach Blanc (ironic name) appears to have survived taking part in the alleged discussion on limiting numbers of dual nationality players. His faux-pas came when talking about the 'style' of player required in French football academies - favouring those with 'technical' qualities over those who are just 'big & strong' - subtext (rightly or wrongly inferred): big, strong and stupid. Whichever, the sports minister has just given Blanc the all clear.

On the political field, the countdown to the presidential elections next year has already started. Today is the 30th anniversary of the ascent to power of the only socialist president of the Cinquième République, one François Mitterand. And it's being given the full treatment in the media - nostalgic articles in the left-wing press, somewhat more bitter commentary in the right-wing press. Battle lines already drawn in the sand of 2012…

Summer quota

Two shocks this morning. 4.40am and the sounds of a grizzling baby woke us up. First interrupted night in over two weeks. Knew I shouldn't have tempted fate. Then, after la bienheureuse had done her duty and la petite had allowed us a whole further 45 minutes sleep, I opened the curtains and the sky outside was grey. After a month of almost unbroken sunshine and temperatures of 25C plus yesterday, perhaps it was tempting fate again to assume that summer had arrived early. Then again, maybe it has - Evelyn the weather girl remarked last week that the weather pattern in the first four months of this year is exactly the same as it was in 1976, that other long, hot summer.
 
Almost two months gone by since the family era began, time for the second visit to the baby doctor. Another measuring session (2.1cm taller, 650g heavier 3 weeks on), and more tests of motor, visual and auditory function. The old boy declared the young lady to have the development of a 4 month old. Bet he says that to all the girls. Then he jabbed her twice in the thigh. First vaccinations, first real screams of pain. Soon calmed with a cuddle. More torture by injection in four weeks.

Life beyond baby is slowly beginning to resurface. Last week I made an evening trip to Gerland to watch OL rather undeservedly overcome Montpellier to keep hopes of the title alive. Said hopes were then virtually extinguished over the weekend with defeat at Toulouse. Five games left, seven points behind Lille. Similarly hopeless position to that in which mon équipe preferée somehow found itself before the weekend. Tempted to avoid watching the big match on Sunday, in the end I decided it would be disloyal not to go to the pub. Happy decision, even if it was rather a pyrrhic victory over the evil red empire. At least it puts a spoke in their supposed coast to the title. At the moment, blue somehow seems the lesser of two evils.

Elsewhere in the footballing world, more scandal this side of la Manche with the leaking of minutes of a meeting at the Fédération Française de Football, which suggested the imposition of a 'quota' to limit the number of players of African origin in football academies. After initially denying everything, the FFF was eventually forced to admit the minutes were genuine, but claimed it was only a discussion about reducing the number players with dual nationality who, having been brought up and received their football education in France, then later opt to play for their other country of origin. Whichever, the minister of sport wasn't happy and promptly suspended the French technical director of football pending an inquiry. Just what French football needed after the World Cup fiasco...