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…
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est football - international. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est football - international. Afficher tous les articles
29 janvier 2013
29 juin 2012
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…
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…
18 juin 2012
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.
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.
18 novembre 2010
French lessons
Red letter day in the lyonnais calendrier today - le beaujolais nouveau est arrivé. Similar party mood amongst the French at Wembley last night, where les bleus gave England the blues. Much satisfaction this side of La Manche, and no little consternation about the lack of aggression displayed by the Premier League cloggers. Four fouls in 90 minutes, surely that's not the English way? Coach Blanc's decision to give in and play two creative midfielders paid off handsomely. Now let's see if he's brave enough to stick with the same tactics in a competitive match…
On Tuesday, Monsieur le Président gave one of his marathon interviews on the three main national TV channels. Ninety minutes of lecturing to the public, most of whom seem to have remained unconvinced that he's learnt any lessons from the recent discontent. The TV appearance was ostensibly to explain the government reshuffle over the weekend, which finally put an end to any pretence of a broad centre-right consensus. Out went representatives of the more moderate, minor parties (Borloo, Morin), and those from further left (Kouchner, Amara), in came a clutch of Sarkozy loyalists. Also shown the door was Eric Woerth, victim of the discontent over the pension reforms he guided through parliament, but more particularly of the Bettencourt affair. And further corruption suspicions over the sale of a hippodrome.
There is more trouble looming for Sarko too. A former defence minister, in office at the time of a controversial deal to sell submarines to Pakistan, has admitted that backhanders and bribes were paid to ease the deal through. It seems to be widely believed that a small proportion of the money ended up in the campaign fund of Eduoard Balladour during the presidential campaign in 1995. Said campaign fund was managed by one Nicolas Sarkozy. Relatives of people killed in the 2002 Karachi bus attack are demanding that Sarkozy answer questions, in the belief that the attack was a reprisal for the ending of the kickbacks by Jacques Chirac, elected in the '95 election.
On Tuesday, Monsieur le Président gave one of his marathon interviews on the three main national TV channels. Ninety minutes of lecturing to the public, most of whom seem to have remained unconvinced that he's learnt any lessons from the recent discontent. The TV appearance was ostensibly to explain the government reshuffle over the weekend, which finally put an end to any pretence of a broad centre-right consensus. Out went representatives of the more moderate, minor parties (Borloo, Morin), and those from further left (Kouchner, Amara), in came a clutch of Sarkozy loyalists. Also shown the door was Eric Woerth, victim of the discontent over the pension reforms he guided through parliament, but more particularly of the Bettencourt affair. And further corruption suspicions over the sale of a hippodrome.
There is more trouble looming for Sarko too. A former defence minister, in office at the time of a controversial deal to sell submarines to Pakistan, has admitted that backhanders and bribes were paid to ease the deal through. It seems to be widely believed that a small proportion of the money ended up in the campaign fund of Eduoard Balladour during the presidential campaign in 1995. Said campaign fund was managed by one Nicolas Sarkozy. Relatives of people killed in the 2002 Karachi bus attack are demanding that Sarkozy answer questions, in the belief that the attack was a reprisal for the ending of the kickbacks by Jacques Chirac, elected in the '95 election.
11 octobre 2010
Weather eye
Lyon has enjoyed a week warmed by a brief été indien: temperatures in the mid-twenties and lovely sunshine (two days of cloud and rain apart). It's been a quiet week for me, less so for la bienheureuse at work. Plus ça change. On the family front, 21 weeks and still counting, tout va bien. Saturday we took advantage of the weather with a stroll along the river and back via the largest pedestrianised square in Europe, where there were displays linked to 'la semaine de la securité', mostly road safety with rolling car simulators and the like. Sunday was less sunny but we went for a walk in the park where the leaves are starting to turn and the dahlias in the botanical gardens are in full bloom.
Newspaper headlines over the past few days have been dominated by a mixture of stories: on the football field, the resurgence of les nouveaux Bleus, seemingly confirmed by two goals in the final few minutes against Roumania; on the political stage, the fifth nationwide demonstration against retirement reforms, backed by almost 70% of the French population, begins tomorrow with transport strikes ominously scheduled to continue indefinitely; and the human drama of the cave diver trapped by a rock fall in an underground river in the Ardèche for over a week. Rescue workers think & hope he's still alive but final confirmation and rescue remain elusive.
06 septembre 2010
Nail biter
And so, the brave new blue dawn on Friday was obscured by dark clouds of disappointment. The new era of Les Bleus under Laurent Blanc stuttered to a home defeat against lowly Belarus. Tomorrow evening, they must pick themselves up and win on hostile territory against Bosnia, arguably the strongest team in the group. No easy task when all three strikers used on Friday are now injured…
We are also biting our nails about travel problems tomorrow. The national journée de mobilisation against pension and retirement reforms is likely to include some action by air traffic controllers. Learning this on the evening news last night threw us into a bit of a panic, given that a Caribbean holiday is in the balance if we don't make it to Gatwick by Tuesday evening. Two options presented themselves:
a) hope our flight is unaffected, turn up at the airport tomorrow morning, with a long drive and ferry from Dover as an emergency backup plan if the flight is cancelled.
b) rebook our flight for the evening flight today.
Both choices risk costing in excess of 300 euros, and occasioned much internet searching, much anxious cussing and ranting, and a hasty bit of early packing. In the end I gave in to common sense and took la bienheureuse's advice: on calling Easyjet (no easy task as they do their level best to hide the call centre number on their web site - cue more cussing and ranting), I was told that flights from Lyon would be unaffected and that the Gatwick flight was certain to go. Hoorah. Revert to plan A. The Easyjet web site this morning appears to confirm that the Gatwick flight is going, though three other flights outbound from Lyon are cancelled tomorrow. All fingers tightly crossed…
The weekend otherwise was very pleasant. Warm sunshine induced us out to lunch on Sunday, pizza and salad at La Pie riverside restaurant, followed by a stroll up river to La Cité Internationale to watch the special version of the most successful film of all time, la bienheureuse being the one person in the whole of France not to have seen the original.
We are also biting our nails about travel problems tomorrow. The national journée de mobilisation against pension and retirement reforms is likely to include some action by air traffic controllers. Learning this on the evening news last night threw us into a bit of a panic, given that a Caribbean holiday is in the balance if we don't make it to Gatwick by Tuesday evening. Two options presented themselves:
a) hope our flight is unaffected, turn up at the airport tomorrow morning, with a long drive and ferry from Dover as an emergency backup plan if the flight is cancelled.
b) rebook our flight for the evening flight today.
Both choices risk costing in excess of 300 euros, and occasioned much internet searching, much anxious cussing and ranting, and a hasty bit of early packing. In the end I gave in to common sense and took la bienheureuse's advice: on calling Easyjet (no easy task as they do their level best to hide the call centre number on their web site - cue more cussing and ranting), I was told that flights from Lyon would be unaffected and that the Gatwick flight was certain to go. Hoorah. Revert to plan A. The Easyjet web site this morning appears to confirm that the Gatwick flight is going, though three other flights outbound from Lyon are cancelled tomorrow. All fingers tightly crossed…
The weekend otherwise was very pleasant. Warm sunshine induced us out to lunch on Sunday, pizza and salad at La Pie riverside restaurant, followed by a stroll up river to La Cité Internationale to watch the special version of the most successful film of all time, la bienheureuse being the one person in the whole of France not to have seen the original.
27 août 2010
Doctoring the news
They thought it was all over. Maybe it soon will be, but it ain't yet. Earlier in the week, three wise old men of French football (including the coach of the glorious team of 98) wrote an open letter to the French football federation suggesting that the match bans placed on the Knysna rebels be replaced with some sort of football community service - helping youth clubs, amateur teams, etc. An idea not without merit but rejected out of hand by the FFF, mindful of public opinion no doubt. Meanwhile Coach Laurent Blanc is quietly going about turning over a new leaf for the national team. Yesterday he selected a squad for the upcoming European championship qualifier that included only nine of the WC squad.
Elsewhere, others are less inclined to let sleeping dogs lie. The team doctor during the Domenech era has just published a book in which he describes the complete lack of authority the coach had over the team, dating from before the 2008 European championships. However, that's old news and what has made the headlines here are the comments he made about 'abnormal blood tests' amongst the 1998 heroes, particularly those who played their club football in Italy at the time. Tweak the tail of a sleeping tiger. A flurry of protest and denials followed. Just a means of selling his book of course. Which may be true. He's not exactly speaking from a position of authority - he only became team doctor in 2006.
Locally, things are looking up football-wise. Aulas finally got his man earlier this week, with the 22m Euro capture of the golden boy of French football, Yoann Gourcuff. The signing has been greeted with great enthusiasm by a Lyon public starved of consistent entertainment in recent years. 15000 fans turned up at the stadium to welcome the new arrival. The rest of the team were introduced as well, but that was almost by the by…
Meanwhile, it's the rentrée. Politically speaking. Schools don't go back for another week, but Sarko and co returned from their holidays earlier in the week to face the storm of criticism and condemnation of the government's 'security' policy. More particularly the xenophobic nature of said policy. The government spin doctors are working overtime while the expulsion of the Roma continues unabated. They've got a lot of work to do. A recent opinion poll suggested 55% of the French population want a left wing president next time round...
Elsewhere, others are less inclined to let sleeping dogs lie. The team doctor during the Domenech era has just published a book in which he describes the complete lack of authority the coach had over the team, dating from before the 2008 European championships. However, that's old news and what has made the headlines here are the comments he made about 'abnormal blood tests' amongst the 1998 heroes, particularly those who played their club football in Italy at the time. Tweak the tail of a sleeping tiger. A flurry of protest and denials followed. Just a means of selling his book of course. Which may be true. He's not exactly speaking from a position of authority - he only became team doctor in 2006.
Locally, things are looking up football-wise. Aulas finally got his man earlier this week, with the 22m Euro capture of the golden boy of French football, Yoann Gourcuff. The signing has been greeted with great enthusiasm by a Lyon public starved of consistent entertainment in recent years. 15000 fans turned up at the stadium to welcome the new arrival. The rest of the team were introduced as well, but that was almost by the by…
Meanwhile, it's the rentrée. Politically speaking. Schools don't go back for another week, but Sarko and co returned from their holidays earlier in the week to face the storm of criticism and condemnation of the government's 'security' policy. More particularly the xenophobic nature of said policy. The government spin doctors are working overtime while the expulsion of the Roma continues unabated. They've got a lot of work to do. A recent opinion poll suggested 55% of the French population want a left wing president next time round...
17 août 2010
Hotheads and Pissheads
First game, first trip of the season to the pub. Frustrating afternoon in Scouseland for the not so glorious yellows. Lovely though it was to see the opposition keeper throwing the ball into his own net for a change, it was two points lost rather than one gained. And just to add to the enjoyment I had to put up with a drunk, who invited himself into the spare chair next to me and proceeded to bend my ear about everything and nothing, including the opinion that Mancunians and Liverpudlians were 'voyous', and a bizarre obsession with how close each London club was to the Thames. Still, at least his allegiance switched from Scouser to Gooner in the space of twenty minutes. Perhaps it was my glowering that did the trick...
Elsewhere, the epilogue to les Bleus World Cup debacle is taking place this afternoon in Paris. Result: 15 match ban for the hotheaded catalyst, and 5, 3 and 1 match bans for the strike ringleaders. May that be the last of it.
Apart from the afternoon in the pub, the only activity of note over the weekend: a stroll along the river for lunch on Saturday, and a sortie to Les Halles by la bienheureuse in the midst of a cooking frenzy on a cool and rainy Sunday. The resulting fish pie, crumble and carrot cake are going down very nicely. Must try and do some more exercise…
Elsewhere, the epilogue to les Bleus World Cup debacle is taking place this afternoon in Paris. Result: 15 match ban for the hotheaded catalyst, and 5, 3 and 1 match bans for the strike ringleaders. May that be the last of it.
Apart from the afternoon in the pub, the only activity of note over the weekend: a stroll along the river for lunch on Saturday, and a sortie to Les Halles by la bienheureuse in the midst of a cooking frenzy on a cool and rainy Sunday. The resulting fish pie, crumble and carrot cake are going down very nicely. Must try and do some more exercise…
05 août 2010
Woerthy causes
The flow of accusations against Eric Woerth continues undammed. Yesterday Liberation published a letter allegedly sent by Woerth while he was Budget Minister, which purportedly showed he had intervened to get a 27 million Euro tax rebate paid to the estate of the late sculptor César. Allegedly at the behest of the executor of César's will, who by pure coincidence is a major donator to the ruling party, UMP. Which, by the way, had one Eric Woerth as treasurer at the time. Of course Woerth has said it was the tax office who decided on the rebate, and the executor in question, Alain-Dominique Perrin, has denounced the letter as fake. This morning Liberation is standing by its story, the most extraordinary part of which I find to be that a sculptor I've never heard of can be worth so much money that he has to pay enough tax to even consider a 27 million Euro rebate. Though I've since learned that I'm very familiar with one of his works - le Patineur, next to the opera house in Lyon. Hmm…
Meanwhile the World Cup debacle is reaching its final phase. Bad boy Anelka has been giving his version, chiming in with the general player chorus - it was all Domenech's fault. This morning the new coach, Laurent Blanc, announced the squad for Les Bleus' first game since the World Cup, a friendly against Norway. He'd already decided not to pick any of the 23 grèvistes for this game, so the next French football team to take the field will have a decidedly unfamiliar look.
Meanwhile the World Cup debacle is reaching its final phase. Bad boy Anelka has been giving his version, chiming in with the general player chorus - it was all Domenech's fault. This morning the new coach, Laurent Blanc, announced the squad for Les Bleus' first game since the World Cup, a friendly against Norway. He'd already decided not to pick any of the 23 grèvistes for this game, so the next French football team to take the field will have a decidedly unfamiliar look.
22 juillet 2010
A wee spot of bother
The Bettencourt affair was pushed briefly off the front pages yesterday by the mise en examen of two international footballers for sex with an under-age prostitute. The summer of Les Bleus grows ever stormier.
It wasn't long, however, before the Bettencourt story was back, rolling along with no sign of grinding to a halt. Government minister Eric Woerth's wife was questioned recently by the procureur investigating illegal political funding and nepotism, and the labour minister himself is due to follow her into the hot seat, as soon as he's finished presenting the government's plans for reform of pensions and retirement to parliament. A busy man, Mr Woerth. Not surprisingly opposition MPs have been asking how he can devote himself fully to his job while defending himself against the Bettencourt bribery allegations. One of his alleged crimes was to ask Liliane Bettencourt's financial manager to give his wife a job, and the task of defending himself against the claim wasn't made any easier when said financial manager told the procureur that Woerth had asked him to 'advise his wife on her career'. Quelle difference?
On a more successful sporting note (what is politics if not sport?), this year's Tour de France is being heralded as one of the best in recent years. There certainly has been a fair amount of excitement, with plenty of twists and turns, but I suspect the French view is tinted a somewhat pinker shade of rose by the success of French riders. Six stage wins so far, the most in any Tour for nearly fifteen years. To top it all, three of them came in successive Pyrenean stages earlier this week. The final mountain stage is taking place today as I write, the final climb up the mythic Col du Tourmalet in damp cloudy weather (much like Lyon today - a break in the hot spell at last) certain to decide the overall winner of the Tour. Somehow, I think a fourth successive French win is unlikely…
Lyon is the subject of a bit of piss-taking in the national news today. Municipal police in the Parc de la Tête d'Or cautioned a man yesterday for allowing his three-year daughter to urinate in public. Authorities say it was on the pavement in front of a restaurant, with public toilets only a short walk away. He says he was on crutches, his daughter was desperate, he couldn't get her to the loo on time, and it was under a tree nowhere near the restaurant. Ho hum. He faces a fine of as much as 450 euros if he can't convince magistrates…
It wasn't long, however, before the Bettencourt story was back, rolling along with no sign of grinding to a halt. Government minister Eric Woerth's wife was questioned recently by the procureur investigating illegal political funding and nepotism, and the labour minister himself is due to follow her into the hot seat, as soon as he's finished presenting the government's plans for reform of pensions and retirement to parliament. A busy man, Mr Woerth. Not surprisingly opposition MPs have been asking how he can devote himself fully to his job while defending himself against the Bettencourt bribery allegations. One of his alleged crimes was to ask Liliane Bettencourt's financial manager to give his wife a job, and the task of defending himself against the claim wasn't made any easier when said financial manager told the procureur that Woerth had asked him to 'advise his wife on her career'. Quelle difference?
On a more successful sporting note (what is politics if not sport?), this year's Tour de France is being heralded as one of the best in recent years. There certainly has been a fair amount of excitement, with plenty of twists and turns, but I suspect the French view is tinted a somewhat pinker shade of rose by the success of French riders. Six stage wins so far, the most in any Tour for nearly fifteen years. To top it all, three of them came in successive Pyrenean stages earlier this week. The final mountain stage is taking place today as I write, the final climb up the mythic Col du Tourmalet in damp cloudy weather (much like Lyon today - a break in the hot spell at last) certain to decide the overall winner of the Tour. Somehow, I think a fourth successive French win is unlikely…
Lyon is the subject of a bit of piss-taking in the national news today. Municipal police in the Parc de la Tête d'Or cautioned a man yesterday for allowing his three-year daughter to urinate in public. Authorities say it was on the pavement in front of a restaurant, with public toilets only a short walk away. He says he was on crutches, his daughter was desperate, he couldn't get her to the loo on time, and it was under a tree nowhere near the restaurant. Ho hum. He faces a fine of as much as 450 euros if he can't convince magistrates…
02 juillet 2010
Hot and bothered
As France's favourite weather girl told us on TV last night, a canicule is defined as three or more successive days when the thermometer climbs above a certain limit during the day and doesn't drop below another at night (34C and 20C for Lyon), and as such, strictly speaking, we aren't yet enduring a heatwave. Well, wall to wall sunshine and temperatures hovering around and above 30C since Saturday is plenty hot enough for me. A thermometer outside the bedroom window showed 29C at 10.30pm last night, was back up at 28C by 10am this morning and is now showing 36C in the shade. And no end in sight. Summer took its time arriving, but now it's here with a vengeance.
Elsewhere, the heat is still on the Fédération Française de Football. The president finally bowed to the inevitable last weekend and announced his resignation, and a meeting of the ruling body has been going on today. The resignation of Escalettes was accepted, but the election of his successor has been delayed until the next meeting in three weeks because of a failure between the amateurs and professionals to agree on a compromise. They did however make one definite decision, confirming the appointment of Laurent Blanc as the next French coach.
Another public figure sweating under the spotlight is the labour minister Eric Woerth, linked with a tax scandal involving the richest woman in France, L'Oréal heiress Liliane Bettencourt, who recently promised to 'regularise' her tax affairs after being accused of tax evasion via Swiss bank accounts. The questions arise because Woerth was budget minister until March this year, and thus in charge of fiscal administration at the same time as his wife was working as tax advisor for the company which manages some of Bettencourt's financial interests. She has since resigned but the opposition and media remain on the attack. Clandestine recordings of conversations involving a Bettencourt advisor have surfaced, in which Woerth's name is mentioned several times a payment of 7500 euros towards Woerth's election campaign is sanctioned. Which is apparently entirely legitimate, but that won't stop more questions being asked. For the moment the Sarkozy camp is backing their man…
Elsewhere, the heat is still on the Fédération Française de Football. The president finally bowed to the inevitable last weekend and announced his resignation, and a meeting of the ruling body has been going on today. The resignation of Escalettes was accepted, but the election of his successor has been delayed until the next meeting in three weeks because of a failure between the amateurs and professionals to agree on a compromise. They did however make one definite decision, confirming the appointment of Laurent Blanc as the next French coach.
Another public figure sweating under the spotlight is the labour minister Eric Woerth, linked with a tax scandal involving the richest woman in France, L'Oréal heiress Liliane Bettencourt, who recently promised to 'regularise' her tax affairs after being accused of tax evasion via Swiss bank accounts. The questions arise because Woerth was budget minister until March this year, and thus in charge of fiscal administration at the same time as his wife was working as tax advisor for the company which manages some of Bettencourt's financial interests. She has since resigned but the opposition and media remain on the attack. Clandestine recordings of conversations involving a Bettencourt advisor have surfaced, in which Woerth's name is mentioned several times a payment of 7500 euros towards Woerth's election campaign is sanctioned. Which is apparently entirely legitimate, but that won't stop more questions being asked. For the moment the Sarkozy camp is backing their man…
23 juin 2010
Curse of the leprechaun
And so, the French World Cup campaign finishes much as it started. Ignominy, disgrace, ridicule and polemic: none are in short supply in France. Opinion is roughly equally divided as to who is to blame: the players, the coach, the French football federation. The fallout in French public life has been astonishing and over the top. Maybe it all goes back to that day in November last year, when an infamous handball wasn't spotted by the referee, the Irish nation felt cheated out of a place at the World Cup, and a little green man bent on mischief-making put a curse on the French team.
What seems sure is that the repercussions will be felt in France for months, nay years to come…
What seems sure is that the repercussions will be felt in France for months, nay years to come…
22 juin 2010
Moody Blues
France is gripped by a single story at the moment - the implosion of les Bleus at the World Cup. Shame, outrage, consternation, outright disbelief, all emotions in the end amount to the same thing - unanimous condemnation of the players' behaviour.
A sporting soap opera without precedent:
Episode 1: half time in the France Mexico match, coach Domenech criticises the performance of striker Anelka. The man known in the past as the Incredible Sulk responds by telling Domenech to "go f**k yourself, you son of a whore". Domenech appears on the pitch for the second half, alone and five minutes before the team returns. Anelka doesn't reappear and France go on to lose the match 2-0.
Episode 2: news of the spat is leaked to the French press. Condemnation of Anelka's obscene outburst is unanimous, and the Féderation française de Football throws him out of the squad.
Episode 3: Jean-Pierre Escalettes, president of the FFF and a bumbling old duffer who bears a striking resemblance to the bumbling old duffers at the English FA, appears at a press conference and contradicts himself several times but ultimately denies that Anelka was only sent home because of the press reaction to the dressing room incident. Alongside him team captain Patrice Evra raises his eyes to the heavens, rubs his face with his hands and does everything but explicitly express his disagreement with the decision. He denounces the source of the dressing room leak as a 'traitor'.
Episode 4: The next day les Bleus refuse to take part in a training session which is open to the public. The players all appear on the pitch wearing trainers but restrict themselves to talking to fans and signing autographs before returning to closet themselves in the team coach. Patrice Evra is filmed having an animated conversation with Domenech when fitness coach Robert Duverne approaches the pair. The confrontation becomes more lively yet, with much finger wagging and gesticulating on the part of Duverne and a sullen response on the part of Evra. Domenech is forced to physically intervene and restrain his colleague, and Duverne finally storms off, flinging away his whistle in disgust as he leaves.
Episode 5: The managing director of the FFF responds to the strike by resigning on the spot. His voice quivering with emotion, he denounces the players' behaviour as unacceptable.
Episode 6: The drama eventually reaches a climax when Domenech emerges from the team bus. He reads out a statement written by the players, which states the obvious and explains that the strike is in protest at Anelka's exclusion from the squad.
Episode 7: Fury and condemnation explodes back home in France. Politicians, commentators, pundits, fans and ex-players alike unite in opposition to the players' attitude, frequently likened to that of spoiled brats. Which, errm, is what they are really...
Episode 8: Domenech appears alone at the pre-match press conference yesterday (normally the team captain is expected to attend as well), and prefaces questions with a rambling commentary explaining that he read out the players' statement but should at the same time have said he completely disagreed with their 'imbecilic behaviour'. He responds to questions about the composition of today's team by hinting that ring-leaders of the revolt may be dropped while other players may refuse to play because they disagreed with the strike.
Episode 9: At the order of Monsieur le Président, Sports Minister Roselyne Bachelot extends her visit to South Africa in order to hold a meeting with players and coaches to tell them what France and the World thinks of them. She appears at a press conference shortly afterwards and, doe-eyed, relates the dressing down she gave the players. Her performance is variously compared to that of super-nanny or a strict mother-superior.
Episode 10: coming at 4pm this afternoon - South Africa vs France. A must win for both teams while hoping that the other game in the group doesn't end in a draw. The French eleven that takes to the pitch is anybody's guess, as is their state of mind. A poll for France Television yesterday resulted in 75% saying they hope France loses, but commentators and ex-players appearing on TV today have all finished by saying the game is a chance for the players to redeem themselves, and mentioning the 'petit espoir' that the team makes it to the next round...
A sporting soap opera without precedent:
Episode 1: half time in the France Mexico match, coach Domenech criticises the performance of striker Anelka. The man known in the past as the Incredible Sulk responds by telling Domenech to "go f**k yourself, you son of a whore". Domenech appears on the pitch for the second half, alone and five minutes before the team returns. Anelka doesn't reappear and France go on to lose the match 2-0.
Episode 2: news of the spat is leaked to the French press. Condemnation of Anelka's obscene outburst is unanimous, and the Féderation française de Football throws him out of the squad.
Episode 3: Jean-Pierre Escalettes, president of the FFF and a bumbling old duffer who bears a striking resemblance to the bumbling old duffers at the English FA, appears at a press conference and contradicts himself several times but ultimately denies that Anelka was only sent home because of the press reaction to the dressing room incident. Alongside him team captain Patrice Evra raises his eyes to the heavens, rubs his face with his hands and does everything but explicitly express his disagreement with the decision. He denounces the source of the dressing room leak as a 'traitor'.
Episode 4: The next day les Bleus refuse to take part in a training session which is open to the public. The players all appear on the pitch wearing trainers but restrict themselves to talking to fans and signing autographs before returning to closet themselves in the team coach. Patrice Evra is filmed having an animated conversation with Domenech when fitness coach Robert Duverne approaches the pair. The confrontation becomes more lively yet, with much finger wagging and gesticulating on the part of Duverne and a sullen response on the part of Evra. Domenech is forced to physically intervene and restrain his colleague, and Duverne finally storms off, flinging away his whistle in disgust as he leaves.
Episode 5: The managing director of the FFF responds to the strike by resigning on the spot. His voice quivering with emotion, he denounces the players' behaviour as unacceptable.
Episode 6: The drama eventually reaches a climax when Domenech emerges from the team bus. He reads out a statement written by the players, which states the obvious and explains that the strike is in protest at Anelka's exclusion from the squad.
Episode 7: Fury and condemnation explodes back home in France. Politicians, commentators, pundits, fans and ex-players alike unite in opposition to the players' attitude, frequently likened to that of spoiled brats. Which, errm, is what they are really...
Episode 8: Domenech appears alone at the pre-match press conference yesterday (normally the team captain is expected to attend as well), and prefaces questions with a rambling commentary explaining that he read out the players' statement but should at the same time have said he completely disagreed with their 'imbecilic behaviour'. He responds to questions about the composition of today's team by hinting that ring-leaders of the revolt may be dropped while other players may refuse to play because they disagreed with the strike.
Episode 9: At the order of Monsieur le Président, Sports Minister Roselyne Bachelot extends her visit to South Africa in order to hold a meeting with players and coaches to tell them what France and the World thinks of them. She appears at a press conference shortly afterwards and, doe-eyed, relates the dressing down she gave the players. Her performance is variously compared to that of super-nanny or a strict mother-superior.
Episode 10: coming at 4pm this afternoon - South Africa vs France. A must win for both teams while hoping that the other game in the group doesn't end in a draw. The French eleven that takes to the pitch is anybody's guess, as is their state of mind. A poll for France Television yesterday resulted in 75% saying they hope France loses, but commentators and ex-players appearing on TV today have all finished by saying the game is a chance for the players to redeem themselves, and mentioning the 'petit espoir' that the team makes it to the next round...
20 juin 2010
Corsican idyll
Birthday holiday fortnight, part 2. Toulon to Ajaccio, a week in Corsica, Ajaccio to Nice to Toulon to Lyon.
Saturday 12th
The 6am wakeup and belated car packing don't make for an ideal start to the week, but the trip to the ferry terminal and boarding go smoothly, so shortly after 8.30am we sail out of Toulon harbour past a Spanish aircraft carrier and into the calm, open water of the Mediterranean. A 90 minute nap revives a grumpy Sogwig, we successfully negotiate lunch with a grumpy Italian waiter and get our first sighting of l'Île de Beauté. Shortly after two in the afternoon, the ferry docks, disgorges its load, and we successfully navigate through the narrow streets of Ajaccio and onto the Route des Sanguinaires. Fifteen minutes later we find our home for the week and relax in the sun dappled garden for the next hour while the caretaker finishes cleaning and grumbling about the previous week's occupants leaving late.
At last we're in, and a lovely villa it is too, the sea twenty yards from the front door (albeit over a road and down a small precipice). Bedrooms are rapidly seized, we unpack and settle in before venturing out to the nearest supermarket to do some provisions shopping. Early evening we receive word and an ETA from the Cherry Hinton gooners, en route from Bastia, with la petite beaucoup suffering a touch of motion sickness as her driver enjoys the switchback mountain road in an attempt to arrived before England's opening match kicks off in South Africa. He almost makes it and we immediately tuck into barbecued lamb, sausages and salad. Several G&Ts, bottle of champagne, a box of rosé and a goalkeeping blunder later the match result seems immaterial. We eventually all fall into bed exhausted.
Sunday 13th
A lie-in and breakfast in the sunshine on the terrace are cut short as la bienheureuse and I drive north to collect le frère aîné from Bastia airport. As we leave Ajaccio behind us and climb into the mountains, the sun disappears behind threatening clouds. The route is winding and impressively scenic nonetheless, and we reach the airport two hours later. Big brother is retrieved, and we make the return trip intending to stop off for lunch en route. A thunderstorm puts paid to that idea and we content ourselves with refuelling on quiche and pastries in Bocognano. We return to the house to find the sun hiding behind clouds and our companions all having siestas. Hard work being on holiday.
Sunshine makes a late afternoon reappearance, which means a game of boules in the garden and another BBQ on the dining agenda. G&Ts followed by dinner taken in the conservatory - salmon and cream cheese hors d'oeuvres, slow cooked meat accompanied by a tasty tomato sauce rustled up by the master chef, cheese, with chocolate tart to finish. Never under feed when you can over eat.
Monday 14th
Clear blue skies greet us on our first day of Corsican diving. Early breakfast and by 9am we are milling around at the dive centre on an Ajaccio beach itching to get into the water. Our hosts are impressed by the 4 stars on the First Class Diver's qualification card, but less impressed when she almost drowns before we even leave the beach. Fortunately I'm on hand to effect a rescue and we are soon zipping across the water on a large RIB with inboard engine towards the first dive site, Campanina, a large rock hosting a navigation beacon on the opposite side of the gulf of Ajaccio. A lovely dive, with spectacular underwater topology, sundry scorpion fish, moray eels, groupers and hundreds of transparent sea squirts.
After pizzas for lunch in a beachside paillotte, we return for a second dive. This time, having been assessed as competent during the morning, we are allowed to dive unaccompanied at a site only a couple of hundred metres from the first. E sette nave is another series of spectacular rock formations, above and underwater, at the Pointe de l'Isolella. More scorpion fish and morays, fewer tunicates, but an impressive pinnacle and a lovely swim through in shallow water are the highlights. We return to the north side of the bay dive-satisfied and arrange to return on Wednesday. Meanwhile the cycling chef has completed his first 100km jaunt of the week, and le frère and Ms Beaucoup have been for a stroll in Ajaccio and an abortive attempt to find the walking path in the hills behind.
For dinner Sogwig consults her cooking oracle, pater, and comes up with delicious roast chicken stuffed with onions, garlic, basil and lemon, while ma bien-aimée prepares a goat's cheese tart for starter. The Margarita man prepares a strong sample of his signature cocktail to oil the cuisine and dining, more cheese and chocolate tart are consumed, and one by one, or two by two, we all eventually retire, replete and well soaked.
Tuesday 15th
The clouds roll in overnight, and we all rise late. By late morning hangovers have receded enough to get everybody moving, and we set off for a drive along the coast road towards Porto. Despite the overcast skies, the scenic coastal and mountain route is enchanting, and we stop for lunch in a pleasant restaurant in Sagone. Pressing on, we reach our main objective, les Callanche de Piana by mid afternoon. Spectacular is an inadequate word to describe the views of the Golfe de Porto and the red rock cliffs and calanques. We eventually find space to park on the precipitous, winding, tourist-clogged road and get out to gape and snap. Drinking in the scenery reminds us of other things to imbibe, and we carry on down into Porto. Abandoning the soggy diver to sleep and fret in the car we stroll around the port and finish up in a restaurant terrace overlooking the harbour.
The rain starts to fall on the return journey, and as we take the hilly, back route through Ajaccio the streets turn into the rivers and the storm drains into geysers. Back at the villa the thunder and lightning roar. No matter, inside the G&Ts and rosé wine continue to flow, and we feast on leftovers and cheese.
Wednesday 16th
A cloudy start to another diving morning, but as we leave the beach in Ajaccio, the sun makes a welcome return. The boat heads in the same direction as Monday but stops a hundred metres short of the coast at a site known as the Tête de Mort. A pinnacle that rises from 40 metres to a few centimetres below the surface, it has snared many an unwary fishermen in the past, hence the name. And a stunning dive it is too. Plunging walls, schools of bream, morays, scorpion fish, an arrow-head shaped rock and a trapped bubble of air beneath an overhang.
While we play beneath the waves, the above water trio head upwards to explore the hills above the route des Sanguinaires and watch the surf rolling in on the isolated beach of Minaccia. We regroup at the villa and spend the afternoon relaxing in the sunshine. In the evening G&T aperitifs have to be necked rather quicker than intended as a late rush to find an alternative taxi company results in travel into Ajaccio a few minutes earlier than planned. We thus arrive at 20123 in high spirits, and a highly enjoyable dinner and evening follows. The restaurant is named after the post code of the mountain village it was transplanted from, and recreates the square village in-house. The fixed menu of vegetable soup or cheese & ham quiche, roast lamb or veal ragout, cheese and dessert is delicious, and all the while we are entertained by a tuneful Corsican cappella group.
Thursday 17th
For our final dive of the fortnight we head out in the same direction, and after a minor communication problem is resolved we end up back at Death's Head. Another great dive ends, and we reluctantly bid goodbye to the Ragnole beaux gosses. They send us off in traditional Corsican fashion with midday aperitifs of Cap Corse and pastis. Meanwhile the non-divers have been into town to visit the market.
All bar the cycling chef (off out for another short 100km ride through the hills) head back to the villa to relax, but the peaceful afternoon is shattered by the sound of low flying aircraft. We rush out just in time to see the third Canadair water bomber fly over barely 100 feet above our heads. Amid much excitement we watch the three amphibious aircraft circle out into the bay and, one by one, skim across the water filling their tanks before lifting off again. Three times they repeat the exercise, apparently dumping water each time, and we decide they are on a training run rather than real life fire-fighting.
In the evening it's la chef Beaucoup's turn to cook. The morning visit to the market has produced three large bream, which she stuffs with onion and parsley. Meanwhile la bienheureuse gives a master chef lesson on tarte tatin making to Prof Margarita, and I busy myself preparing caipirinhas, a long and labour intensive process. Fortunately the fish takes rather longer to cook than expected, so we all have time to sup Brazilian rum and lime at our leisure. The bream and the tarte tatin are worth the wait and, as the drinking goes on deep into the night, the five litre box of rosé empties…
Friday 18th
Alack and alas, last day of the holiday. Late breakfast and a lazy morning (a quick cycle ride, and shopping trip to Ajaccio aside) are followed by a drive out along the route des Sanguinaires in search of a paillotte recommended by our dive centre friends. We end up in one which turns out not to be the one intended, but have a lovely lunch all the same in an idyllic beachside setting. Afterwards we continue to the end of the road, to la Pointe de la Parata to gaze out at the Îles des Sanguinaires. We stroll along the path round the point and the Genoese tower and then head up over the hills to swim and sunbathe on the Plage de Minaccia.
Then, alas, it's time to head home and start packing. In between we fit in a final sumptuous barbecue dinner - lamb and merguez sausages, aubergine bake, enormous salad and chocolate mousse - and watching drab England grind their way to another World Cup draw. Finally, it's time for bed and goodbyes, as the La Favière four have another early alarm call the following morning for the 8.30am ferry to Nice. The end of a wonderful week, capped by the crowning of FCD Cacatête six times in a row.
Saturday 19th
Ferry to Nice, drive around Nice trying to find the autoroute, make it to Toulon, somehow find the Margarita Man's hotel without map or directions, drop him off and then hit the road back to Lyon. We arrive just before nine in the evening, unload the car and eventually fall exhausted into bed, looking forward to a Sunday lie-in. No such luck. The soggy diver has an early flight the next morning, which means I'm up at 6am again for the trip to the airport. Looking forward to a relaxing week of lie-ins, back in the normal routine...
Saturday 12th
The 6am wakeup and belated car packing don't make for an ideal start to the week, but the trip to the ferry terminal and boarding go smoothly, so shortly after 8.30am we sail out of Toulon harbour past a Spanish aircraft carrier and into the calm, open water of the Mediterranean. A 90 minute nap revives a grumpy Sogwig, we successfully negotiate lunch with a grumpy Italian waiter and get our first sighting of l'Île de Beauté. Shortly after two in the afternoon, the ferry docks, disgorges its load, and we successfully navigate through the narrow streets of Ajaccio and onto the Route des Sanguinaires. Fifteen minutes later we find our home for the week and relax in the sun dappled garden for the next hour while the caretaker finishes cleaning and grumbling about the previous week's occupants leaving late.
Sunday 13th
A lie-in and breakfast in the sunshine on the terrace are cut short as la bienheureuse and I drive north to collect le frère aîné from Bastia airport. As we leave Ajaccio behind us and climb into the mountains, the sun disappears behind threatening clouds. The route is winding and impressively scenic nonetheless, and we reach the airport two hours later. Big brother is retrieved, and we make the return trip intending to stop off for lunch en route. A thunderstorm puts paid to that idea and we content ourselves with refuelling on quiche and pastries in Bocognano. We return to the house to find the sun hiding behind clouds and our companions all having siestas. Hard work being on holiday.
Sunshine makes a late afternoon reappearance, which means a game of boules in the garden and another BBQ on the dining agenda. G&Ts followed by dinner taken in the conservatory - salmon and cream cheese hors d'oeuvres, slow cooked meat accompanied by a tasty tomato sauce rustled up by the master chef, cheese, with chocolate tart to finish. Never under feed when you can over eat.
Monday 14th
Clear blue skies greet us on our first day of Corsican diving. Early breakfast and by 9am we are milling around at the dive centre on an Ajaccio beach itching to get into the water. Our hosts are impressed by the 4 stars on the First Class Diver's qualification card, but less impressed when she almost drowns before we even leave the beach. Fortunately I'm on hand to effect a rescue and we are soon zipping across the water on a large RIB with inboard engine towards the first dive site, Campanina, a large rock hosting a navigation beacon on the opposite side of the gulf of Ajaccio. A lovely dive, with spectacular underwater topology, sundry scorpion fish, moray eels, groupers and hundreds of transparent sea squirts.
After pizzas for lunch in a beachside paillotte, we return for a second dive. This time, having been assessed as competent during the morning, we are allowed to dive unaccompanied at a site only a couple of hundred metres from the first. E sette nave is another series of spectacular rock formations, above and underwater, at the Pointe de l'Isolella. More scorpion fish and morays, fewer tunicates, but an impressive pinnacle and a lovely swim through in shallow water are the highlights. We return to the north side of the bay dive-satisfied and arrange to return on Wednesday. Meanwhile the cycling chef has completed his first 100km jaunt of the week, and le frère and Ms Beaucoup have been for a stroll in Ajaccio and an abortive attempt to find the walking path in the hills behind.
Tuesday 15th
The clouds roll in overnight, and we all rise late. By late morning hangovers have receded enough to get everybody moving, and we set off for a drive along the coast road towards Porto. Despite the overcast skies, the scenic coastal and mountain route is enchanting, and we stop for lunch in a pleasant restaurant in Sagone. Pressing on, we reach our main objective, les Callanche de Piana by mid afternoon. Spectacular is an inadequate word to describe the views of the Golfe de Porto and the red rock cliffs and calanques. We eventually find space to park on the precipitous, winding, tourist-clogged road and get out to gape and snap. Drinking in the scenery reminds us of other things to imbibe, and we carry on down into Porto. Abandoning the soggy diver to sleep and fret in the car we stroll around the port and finish up in a restaurant terrace overlooking the harbour.
The rain starts to fall on the return journey, and as we take the hilly, back route through Ajaccio the streets turn into the rivers and the storm drains into geysers. Back at the villa the thunder and lightning roar. No matter, inside the G&Ts and rosé wine continue to flow, and we feast on leftovers and cheese.
A cloudy start to another diving morning, but as we leave the beach in Ajaccio, the sun makes a welcome return. The boat heads in the same direction as Monday but stops a hundred metres short of the coast at a site known as the Tête de Mort. A pinnacle that rises from 40 metres to a few centimetres below the surface, it has snared many an unwary fishermen in the past, hence the name. And a stunning dive it is too. Plunging walls, schools of bream, morays, scorpion fish, an arrow-head shaped rock and a trapped bubble of air beneath an overhang.
While we play beneath the waves, the above water trio head upwards to explore the hills above the route des Sanguinaires and watch the surf rolling in on the isolated beach of Minaccia. We regroup at the villa and spend the afternoon relaxing in the sunshine. In the evening G&T aperitifs have to be necked rather quicker than intended as a late rush to find an alternative taxi company results in travel into Ajaccio a few minutes earlier than planned. We thus arrive at 20123 in high spirits, and a highly enjoyable dinner and evening follows. The restaurant is named after the post code of the mountain village it was transplanted from, and recreates the square village in-house. The fixed menu of vegetable soup or cheese & ham quiche, roast lamb or veal ragout, cheese and dessert is delicious, and all the while we are entertained by a tuneful Corsican cappella group.
Thursday 17th
For our final dive of the fortnight we head out in the same direction, and after a minor communication problem is resolved we end up back at Death's Head. Another great dive ends, and we reluctantly bid goodbye to the Ragnole beaux gosses. They send us off in traditional Corsican fashion with midday aperitifs of Cap Corse and pastis. Meanwhile the non-divers have been into town to visit the market.
All bar the cycling chef (off out for another short 100km ride through the hills) head back to the villa to relax, but the peaceful afternoon is shattered by the sound of low flying aircraft. We rush out just in time to see the third Canadair water bomber fly over barely 100 feet above our heads. Amid much excitement we watch the three amphibious aircraft circle out into the bay and, one by one, skim across the water filling their tanks before lifting off again. Three times they repeat the exercise, apparently dumping water each time, and we decide they are on a training run rather than real life fire-fighting.
In the evening it's la chef Beaucoup's turn to cook. The morning visit to the market has produced three large bream, which she stuffs with onion and parsley. Meanwhile la bienheureuse gives a master chef lesson on tarte tatin making to Prof Margarita, and I busy myself preparing caipirinhas, a long and labour intensive process. Fortunately the fish takes rather longer to cook than expected, so we all have time to sup Brazilian rum and lime at our leisure. The bream and the tarte tatin are worth the wait and, as the drinking goes on deep into the night, the five litre box of rosé empties…
Friday 18th
Alack and alas, last day of the holiday. Late breakfast and a lazy morning (a quick cycle ride, and shopping trip to Ajaccio aside) are followed by a drive out along the route des Sanguinaires in search of a paillotte recommended by our dive centre friends. We end up in one which turns out not to be the one intended, but have a lovely lunch all the same in an idyllic beachside setting. Afterwards we continue to the end of the road, to la Pointe de la Parata to gaze out at the Îles des Sanguinaires. We stroll along the path round the point and the Genoese tower and then head up over the hills to swim and sunbathe on the Plage de Minaccia.
Saturday 19th
Ferry to Nice, drive around Nice trying to find the autoroute, make it to Toulon, somehow find the Margarita Man's hotel without map or directions, drop him off and then hit the road back to Lyon. We arrive just before nine in the evening, unload the car and eventually fall exhausted into bed, looking forward to a Sunday lie-in. No such luck. The soggy diver has an early flight the next morning, which means I'm up at 6am again for the trip to the airport. Looking forward to a relaxing week of lie-ins, back in the normal routine...
05 mars 2010
Cold reality
Eight years of life in Lyon have done much to convince me that France is a much healthier place to live than Britain. Anecdotal evidence supports the theory. Up until a week ago, I claimed never to have caught a cold here. La bienheureuse too can count the number she's suffered since coming to Lyon on the fingers of less than one hand. However, two firsts in the last week have dented our French health record - first I caught a cold, and now la bienhereuse est enrhumée aussi, the first time we can remember either of us infecting the other. I'm sure it's just a blip.
It's cold in Lyon today, with a bitter north wind blowing down the river, but with lovely sunshine to take the edge off the chill. There was also a cold atmosphere in the Stade de France on Wednesday night, where les Bleus came up against the current best team in the world and came off second best. However, it wasn't the 2-0 defeat as such that displeased the fans and pundits, it was the manner of it. France looked like a team with no ideas, no cohesion and no leader. Domenech is more unpopular than ever, and with fewer than a hundred days to the World Cup, the natives are getting restless...
It's cold in Lyon today, with a bitter north wind blowing down the river, but with lovely sunshine to take the edge off the chill. There was also a cold atmosphere in the Stade de France on Wednesday night, where les Bleus came up against the current best team in the world and came off second best. However, it wasn't the 2-0 defeat as such that displeased the fans and pundits, it was the manner of it. France looked like a team with no ideas, no cohesion and no leader. Domenech is more unpopular than ever, and with fewer than a hundred days to the World Cup, the natives are getting restless...
20 novembre 2009
Hands, hypocrisy and minor heatwaves
A difficult week for French football, starting with the infamous match last Wednesday. Les Bleus struggled, outplayed and outfought by the Irish, who missed a string of chances, the conversion of any of which would have avoided all the controversy. The match commentators, including St Arsène, were embarrassed, and the overall feeling was one of sheepish relief. Then came the media storm across the Channel and the Irish Sea. It seems the devil incarnate wears blue and answers to the name of Thierry. The clamour for a public hanging is such that a few politicians and ex-footballers have been moved to proclaim their shame about France going to South Africa. Perhaps it's cynical to suggest they are bowing to public opinion rather than any true sentiment.
Fair enough. What Henry did was wrong, the goal should have been disallowed, Ireland were more worthy of the win, but what amazes me is the level of self-righteous, hypocritical indignation in England - I seem to remember barely a mention of Michael Owen diving to win penalties against Argentina in successive world cups, or Rooney diving to win the penalty that ended the 49ers unbeaten run. Cheating is evidently a foreign invention. The English merely play clever...
Football rant over. Nearly. We were contemplating venturing out on Wednesday evening to take in the midnight arrival of this year's Beaujolais Nouveau in Place Bellecour, but tiredness and apathy got the better of us. Just as well, because celebrating Algerians mixed with the Beaujolais celebration and police ended up using tear gas to disperse the over-enthusiastic crowd. Elsewhere in the Lyon conurbation, jeunes Algeriens demonstrated their joy by burning a few cars and ransacking a couple of shops. Maybe it will be a quieter night next year.
If it's not bad taste to gloat about the weather to a British audience, then I will just mention the mini Indian summer we are having at the moment. It's been unseasonably mild for over a week, and today we basked in sunshine and temperatures of over 20 degrees. Winter has temporarily receded.
On the home front it's been a quiet week, apart from a big win on the lottery (winnings of 11 euros already partially reinvested), I've amused myself by making a hole in the toilet ceiling. But that's a story the telling of which can wait until it's fully over...
Fair enough. What Henry did was wrong, the goal should have been disallowed, Ireland were more worthy of the win, but what amazes me is the level of self-righteous, hypocritical indignation in England - I seem to remember barely a mention of Michael Owen diving to win penalties against Argentina in successive world cups, or Rooney diving to win the penalty that ended the 49ers unbeaten run. Cheating is evidently a foreign invention. The English merely play clever...
Football rant over. Nearly. We were contemplating venturing out on Wednesday evening to take in the midnight arrival of this year's Beaujolais Nouveau in Place Bellecour, but tiredness and apathy got the better of us. Just as well, because celebrating Algerians mixed with the Beaujolais celebration and police ended up using tear gas to disperse the over-enthusiastic crowd. Elsewhere in the Lyon conurbation, jeunes Algeriens demonstrated their joy by burning a few cars and ransacking a couple of shops. Maybe it will be a quieter night next year.
If it's not bad taste to gloat about the weather to a British audience, then I will just mention the mini Indian summer we are having at the moment. It's been unseasonably mild for over a week, and today we basked in sunshine and temperatures of over 20 degrees. Winter has temporarily receded.
On the home front it's been a quiet week, apart from a big win on the lottery (winnings of 11 euros already partially reinvested), I've amused myself by making a hole in the toilet ceiling. But that's a story the telling of which can wait until it's fully over...
17 novembre 2009
Blue and green with envy
A famous lyonnais is in the news today - Tony Musulin, the security truck driver who absconded with more than 11 million euros, gave himself up in Monaco yesterday, much to the amazement of all. Since he vanished nearly two weeks ago there had been no sign of him other than the discovery of 9 million euros of the loot in a lock-up garage not far from where he drove off with the van. And therein perhaps lies the key to his sudden reappearance - of the missing 2.5 million, there is still no news, and Monsieur Musulin himself is apparently mute on the subject. Judicial experts reckon he risks a maximum of three years in prison, perhaps as little as 18 months with time off for good behaviour. With roots in the Balkans, the rumour is that the loot is hidden in Serbia, to be enjoyed when he comes out of prison. If not then he can always fall back on his new-found celebrity. The perfect, non-violent 'crime of the century' has turned him into something of a star on the internet...
Back in the escapist world of sport, the big match tomorrow preoccupies. The 1-0 win in Dublin on Saturday (the 2nd half at least) was regarded as a job reasonably well done but only half-done. A nation awaits and expects.
And back at home, in the real world, I soldier on with the recent discovery that literary agent rejections are like London buses. None at all for two or three weeks, then 2 or 3 all arrive at once. Two weeks ago it was three, one after the other. And just recently, two more on consecutive days. Current rejection count: one letter with a personal touch, six form letters, four slips/cards, one application disappeared into the ether (3 months and still waiting), and six still out there. Running total of costs: £61.74 in return postage, 72 euros outward postage, and approximately 20 euros of stationary costs. Not cheap being a failed writer...
Back in the escapist world of sport, the big match tomorrow preoccupies. The 1-0 win in Dublin on Saturday (the 2nd half at least) was regarded as a job reasonably well done but only half-done. A nation awaits and expects.
And back at home, in the real world, I soldier on with the recent discovery that literary agent rejections are like London buses. None at all for two or three weeks, then 2 or 3 all arrive at once. Two weeks ago it was three, one after the other. And just recently, two more on consecutive days. Current rejection count: one letter with a personal touch, six form letters, four slips/cards, one application disappeared into the ether (3 months and still waiting), and six still out there. Running total of costs: £61.74 in return postage, 72 euros outward postage, and approximately 20 euros of stationary costs. Not cheap being a failed writer...
13 novembre 2009
Not gripped at all
Yesterday marked the start of the grand vaccination program against le grippe A (otherwise known as swine flu) in France. And met by an overwhelming lack of enthusiasm. Granted, for the first couple of weeks only priority cases (young children, pregnant women, the infirm) are eligible, but in the Rhône department, a grand total of 93 people turned up for the jab. Government spokesmen tried hard yesterday to counteract the negative publicity about the safety of the vaccine (particularly the sort with adjuvant added), but weren't helped by the news that a doctor who had the jab a few weeks ago has contracted a syndrome affecting the nervous system, which is possibly linked.
Elsewhere this weekend, the French are preoccupied by the upcoming World Cup playoff against Ireland. The first match, at Croke Park, is being approached with a certain amount of trepidation - the atmosphere in the ground, state of the pitch, anticipated bad weather, never-say-die ('British') attitude and unbeaten qualifying campaign of the men in green are all quoted factors in why Les Bleus might not do so well in the Emerald Isle. On verra...
Meanwhile, there was one small regret over our trip to the UK last weekend: we missed the game of the season at Gerland. The match between OL and OM finished 5-5! Lyon led 1-0, then 2-1, only to find themselves 4-2 down with less than ten minutes left. Then, just as they were celebrating one of the comebacks of all time, leading 5-4 as the 90 minutes were up, Marseille scrambled an equaliser (an own goal, to top it all) in time added on. Un match vraiment fou...
Elsewhere this weekend, the French are preoccupied by the upcoming World Cup playoff against Ireland. The first match, at Croke Park, is being approached with a certain amount of trepidation - the atmosphere in the ground, state of the pitch, anticipated bad weather, never-say-die ('British') attitude and unbeaten qualifying campaign of the men in green are all quoted factors in why Les Bleus might not do so well in the Emerald Isle. On verra...
Meanwhile, there was one small regret over our trip to the UK last weekend: we missed the game of the season at Gerland. The match between OL and OM finished 5-5! Lyon led 1-0, then 2-1, only to find themselves 4-2 down with less than ten minutes left. Then, just as they were celebrating one of the comebacks of all time, leading 5-4 as the 90 minutes were up, Marseille scrambled an equaliser (an own goal, to top it all) in time added on. Un match vraiment fou...
23 octobre 2009
No action
The end of a rather quiet week, at home and abroad in the wider world. One benefit of la bienheureuse being away is guilt-free TV football in the evenings. Tuesday I watched mon équipe de cœur amble complacently in second gear through 92 minutes of the match against Dutch opponents, only to concede an equaliser in the 93rd. No real damage done. OL played the same night, on a subscription channel, and drove another nail into the Scouse coffin. Let's hope there's a resurrection on Sunday...
Elsewhere, Les Bleus drew Ireland in the World Cup playoffs. Les hommes en vert are seen as tough opponents, typically British.
In the more trivial, non-sporting world, Jean Sarkozy has renounced his candidature for the presidency of Epad, bowing to the general opinion that a 23 year-old law student lacks the experience and know-how to direct the billion euro budget of the public body in charge of developing France's largest business district. Shame nobody dared tell his father what a bad idea it was. Sarko fils can console himself with a mere seat on the board...
And finally, the Clearstream trial nears an end, with three days of summing up by prosecution and defence expected to end today. The prosecution has asked for an 18 month suspended sentence for de Villepin, with heavier sentences for his co-defendants. They seem to have accepted they can't prove that he took an active role in the conspiracy, but claim he's guilty of doing nothing to stop it. A decision in the case is expected to be deliberated at the start of 2010. The wheels of French justice grind slowly...
Elsewhere, Les Bleus drew Ireland in the World Cup playoffs. Les hommes en vert are seen as tough opponents, typically British.
In the more trivial, non-sporting world, Jean Sarkozy has renounced his candidature for the presidency of Epad, bowing to the general opinion that a 23 year-old law student lacks the experience and know-how to direct the billion euro budget of the public body in charge of developing France's largest business district. Shame nobody dared tell his father what a bad idea it was. Sarko fils can console himself with a mere seat on the board...
And finally, the Clearstream trial nears an end, with three days of summing up by prosecution and defence expected to end today. The prosecution has asked for an 18 month suspended sentence for de Villepin, with heavier sentences for his co-defendants. They seem to have accepted they can't prove that he took an active role in the conspiracy, but claim he's guilty of doing nothing to stop it. A decision in the case is expected to be deliberated at the start of 2010. The wheels of French justice grind slowly...
12 octobre 2009
Gourmet dining
Autumn has arrived in Lyon. Mild, rainy weather at the end of last week has been followed by cooler, sunnier times. On Saturday the clouds clung on, the upside of which was that la bienheureuse spent most of the day dans la cuisine. Magret de canard stuffed with fruit stewed in wine & port, salmon cakes, sweet potato soup and chicken in milk was ample recompense for a weekend without proper football.
Internationull football never grips in quite the same way, but I forced myself to watch France coast to a 5-0 win against the group minnows, the Faroe Islands. The game was rendered truly null and void by Serbia's 5-0 thrashing of Romania, which condemns France to the playoffs. Sunday was the cusp between summer and autumn, sunny but with temperatures still approaching 20C. We took advantage in the morning with our habitual 20km cycle ride, along the river to Parc Gerland, back down to Parc Feyssine, and then home again.
In Lyon the public transport strike petered out a week ago without agreement between unions and management. The former threaten to time future action to coincide with popular events, such as the Fêtes des Lumières or the Christmas period...
In the wider France, Frédéric Mitterrand seems to have weathered the storm (a poll says 2/3 of people want him to keep his job), though the National Front are still trying to stir up trouble by claiming he intervened in a court case of two brothers accused of rape in Italy while he was principal of the prestigious French Academy in Rome a year ago. Meanwhile Sarkozy's 23 year old son looks likely to become head of the government agency in charge of developing La Défense, the main business district of Paris. Accusations of nepotism are inevitable...
Inscription à :
Articles (Atom)