Leaks

Wet, leaky day in Lyon yesterday. And I was still wet when I emerged from the bathroom in the morning and noticed a strange odour. Obviously it wasn't me because I'd just had a shower, but it reminded me of the stink bugs from an African childhood that produced an awful smell when they got squashed. The insects that is, rather than the childhood. Never stepped on one in France though, so it wasn't that either. 

Uhoh, gas!

In a naked panic I immediately ran into the kitchen and turned off the gas supply to the cooker and boiler. The smell had pervaded the apartment but eventually dissipated. Unlike 1000 other people in Lyon and the surrounding area, I wasn't panicked enough to call the pompiers. Turned out it was sulphur dioxide leaking from one of the refineries in Fezyin, about 10km further south. No danger to the population, we were told...

Leak number two occurred the previous evening, when some bright spark published one of the questions in the following day's maths Bac exam on the internet, sowing instant panic in the education ministry. The exam papers for the Bac are normally as closely guarded as secrets of state. The education minister eventually decided to strike that particular question from the exam but maintain the rest of the paper sat by thousands of students yesterday morning. The students were none too happy about it, as the question in, err question, was apparently the easiest in the exam…

A more mundane domestic leak occurred later in the afternoon, when a thunderstorm caused a minor flood in the bedroom because I'd left the window open in my perennial summer quest to keep the apartment cool. And another which involved a particularly messy nappy episode, but perhaps I'd better not elaborate on that one.

A day earlier, the annual fête de la musique on midsummer's day was rather dampened in Lyon by leakage from the skies. Music events in the city were played out to a backing track of percussion from the heavens. The summer storm season has started with a bang...

Fluff and Fado

It's that time of year when the seed pods on the numerous Platane (Plane) trees in Lyon are in the midst of shedding their irritating load. On a day like yesterday (very warm and sunny, but also windy), the fluffy stuff blows everywhere and gets into eyes and up noses. In the evening we were at a Fado concert where the singer Christina Branco was suffering like the rest of Lyon from platane afflicted eyes and throat. It had no noticeable effect her terrific voice though, and she managed ninety minutes of a very enjoyable concert.

From 28 degree sunshine yesterday to 18 degrees, cloud and rain showers today, and the forecast for the next couple of days is even worse. Sod's law for our visitors this weekend…

Delayed pain

There was an upside to a yesterday in which a six hour flight delay was only the second worse part: tasty parsnip soup and Tarte Tatin awaiting me on my return from witnessing a horror story in the pub, which in itself was a poor substitute for attending the nightmare in person. 

The day was cold and bright as I set off for the airport at 8.30 yesterday morning through a city covered in a centimetre thick blanket of fresh snow. Arrived, went through security, waited for the flight. And waited, and waited. Eventually, an hour after departure time, they announced a further delay of two hours. No matter, still time for me to get to the holy ground in good time, and they offered a generous 4 euro 50 voucher for refreshments. Of course, in the extortionately priced refreshment kiosk, it didn't buy much, but it did help pass the time. 

And the time passed, and passed. Eventually, a few minutes after the estimated departure time, the flight was called for departure. Hooray, if it left reasonably promptly there was still time to make the match. Through passport control and into the holding pen that passes for a departure lounge, where we could watch passengers disembarking from the plane that was presumably scheduled to take us across the Channel. Think again. More than half an hour later, another announcement: "Your plane is here, but the flight crew (returning on another flight) won't arrive for another hour. Departure is estimated for 20 minutes after that."

Sinking stomach. A departure estimated at 15:40 would have got me to Stansted about 20 minutes after the match had kicked off, so at that point I gave up and went home. A claim for compensation and reimbursement is currently winging its way to Luton. Hope it doesn't get delayed...

I found other comfort of sorts in the fact that not being in London/Cambridge last night meant la bienheureuse and I could attend OL's match with PSG together. So we shivered (min temperature last night -6C) through 90 minutes of football, in most of which Lyon were outplayed by Paris, and were somewhat fortunate to find themselves only a goal down (thanks to a match-winning display by the reserve keeper) when the visitors had a player sent off with 20 minutes left. Labouring away, les gones finally conjured up an equaliser and winner ten minutes from time.

Otherwise it's been a quiet week since our return from Australia, spent catching up with work (for the wage-earner at least, including annual assessment, which deservedly earned 5 gold stars) and recovering from jet-lag, which seems to have hit us both more than normal. We did have an evening out on Friday, attending a Django Reinhardt centenary concert, which was foot-tappingly good in parts but dragged at times despite the virtuosity of the musicians. I'll blame the jet lag...

Meanwhile, on the political stage, the big news last week was the acquittal of Dominic de Villepin in the Clearstream trial, which is being seen as a bit of a bloody nose for Sarko. The feud continues with Villepin blaming the prosecution's decision to appeal on interference by the Elysée. I fear we haven't heard the last of the Clearstream affair...

Grèves, grondements et une disparition

Two strikes of note in France at the moment. The air traffic controllers in and around Paris are protesting against plans to merge the 3 Parisien centres into one. Fortunately it is affecting flights to & from Orly at the moment, so apart from an outbound delay, my own cross-channel trip on Monday was unaffected.

And today, another protest strike. Staff at state-owned television & radio stations are demanding assurances that plans to do away with adverts from next year will not affect funding. The government wants a system 'more like the BBC'. Hmm, peu de chance...

Meanwhile Sarkozy still dominates the headlines. However, temporarily at least, Monsieur is being overshadowed by Madame and junior. Mme Sarkozy III gave an interview to a weekly magazine yesterday, in which she railed against the web site that published the alleged text message, and wondered whether "if such internet site had existed during the war, would there have been denunciations of Jews?"
She has now issued a swift apology...

Sarkozy fils is also much in the news at the moment, showing every sign that he is following closely in Papa's footsteps, following a party revolt in Dad's old constituency of Neuilly-sur-Seine. The UMP party hierarchy wanted to 'parachute' one of Monsieur le Président's key advisors into the party list in Neuilly for the forthcoming municipal elections, but the local party wasn't happy. And Jean Sarkozy was one of the leaders of the rebellion, by inference, against his father. A successful rebellion, at that...

And finally, RIP, Henri Salvador, France's most venerable and much loved singer. Still performing and recording at the age of 90, and remembered for his velvet voice and indefatiguable good humour, accompanied always by a cackling laugh.

A traveller's tale (reprise)

The flying weekend visit to Blighty went fairly well - beer & curry with the rhyming couple Friday night, comfortable win (in the end) for les cannoniers Saturday, venison dinner chez J&C in the evening, flight home on Sunday. Only problem was with the latter. Arrived at the airport and was slightly bemused to not find my flight listed on the boards. Checked my booking and discovered it was two hours later than I thought. Stansted for once was virtually empty and I had 3 and a half hours to waste. Not even a check-in or security queue to lose half an hour in.

And of course that wasn't the end of the story. Flight boarded on time, but more than an hour later the aircraft still hadn't moved. Breakdown in air traffic control radio apparently. Eventually we were airborne nearly five hours after I'd arrived at the airport. I'll get the hang of travelling one day...

We had a very enjoyable evening last night, courtesy of free tickets offered by la bienheureuse's company who were sponsoring the event, which took place in the brand spanking new Salle 3000, the amphitheatre at the Cité Internationale. "Do you speak Djembé?" was a musical melange of west African and classical western music. With audience participation. Every spectator had their own 'Djembé' drum. Great fun it was bashing away too, even if following the rythmn occasionally proved a problem. And we got free wine and nibbles afterwards too.