The first of November happily fell on a Thursday this year, which meant a four day weekend. And, after a bit of dithering we eventually dropped la petite off at the crèche as normal on the bank holiday All Saints day, which meant a rare day together sans enfant. A shortened day that is, because despite arriving later than normal, our little darling was the first one there. And with the regulars doing a training course, unfamiliar replacement staff meant we had to stay an hour before shyness was eventually overcome and other kids began turning up to aid distraction.
Another bonus of the autumn school break was the temporary installation of an indoor kids' play area with bouncy castles, climbing wall, trampolines and the like in a large hall out at the university. Alerted to it by our neighbour, we undertook a trip there via tram on Saturday morning. La petite cascadeuse had great fun in the under-3s soft-play area, but her favourite was the trampolines. After such an energetic morning, the hitherto inexhaustible toddler fell asleep in her parents' arms on the way home.
Such fun was had that papa et la petite made a return trip yesterday while mama was away in Vienna. Somewhat busier than at the weekend, but no less enjoyable, particularly as we managed to get onto the trampolines at the right time, before the queues built up later in the morning. In between, the sporting weekend continued on Sunday with another trip to the swimming pool. The advantage of activity mornings is an almost guaranteed two-hour plus siesta, which on Sunday was useful as la petite didn't have to witness papa getting all upset in front of the TV while 22 men ran around chasing a ball.
The end of les vacances scolaires next Monday could see Lyon gridlocked. The Croix Rousse tunnel, which is one of the main east-west routes through the city closed this week for nine months of upgrade and safety work. Almost fifty thousand vehicles use it each day, a lot of traffic for other, already saturated roads in the city to absorb. Predictions of doom and chaos all round, but so far so good, apparently, with extra metros, park & ride sites, car-sharing schemes and so on all helping take the strain. The real test however comes with the return of the school run next week...
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est neighbours. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est neighbours. Afficher tous les articles
08 novembre 2012
25 septembre 2012
Sun, sea and sand 2012
So it was, in our brand new voiture, that we set off on the annual week's holiday on the Côte d'Azur. Loaded almost to the gunnels, the new car swept silently down the autoroute like a dream, la petite more or less behaved herself and enjoyed the view from her new, higher perch, and we arrived in La Favière late on Sunday afternoon. After a quick drink at the corner café in the 28C sunshine, we successfully retrieved the keys to the apartment from the safe box outside the immobilier, and settled into our old/new home for the week. Three hours later, NI Soggydiver and new Scottish consort arrived and we all enjoyed beer and takeaway pizza for dinner as we watched the sun go down from the terrace.
Lazy Monday morning, though a somewhat earlier start than hoped for due to a toddler waking up and excitedly finding her parents in the same room, and slightly marred by the downstairs neighbour complaining about the noise. Shut that young child up…
And so to the first dive of the week and the discovery of the Bormes boys new headquarters. La bienheureuse generously volunteered for baby-sitting and beach life-guard duty leaving me to enjoy a trip in the afternoon sunshine to Pointe de la Galère with our two buddies. Pleasant enough pootle, though current and depth restrictions limited us to the less interesting west side of the point. In the evening, a return to a favourite haunt, la Brasserie du Port. Soupe de Poisson and Mousse au Chocolat naturally on the menu and, despite her parents' apprehensions, la petite coquinette displayed almost perfect table manners, albeit aided and abetted by a portable DVD player. Once again la bienheureuse chose the short straw and took baby home to bed, though the rest of us weren't too far behind. Wine, beer and a few traditional games of peanut-head followed. A girls off-night at the card table.
An early start the next morning because it was decided to do the morning dive. La mère plongeuse eventually overcame the apprehension at her first dive in over two years and accompanied the Soggy diver on the trip to Pointe de Montremian. The ski slope delivered its usual lovely dive though a National Instructor's current phobia put paid to the plan to swim out to the pinnacle. Meanwhile, la petite napped, papa lazed, and the RNLI cox explored Le Lavandou. Late afternoon was spent at the seaside, where la petite travailleuse busied herself in an ultimately fruitless attempt to transfer all the sand from the beach to the sea.
Dinner in that night, and we settled for two reliable old favourites - poulet au lait & tarte tatin. Or not-so-reliable old favourites. Though both dishes turned out to be tasty enough, a lack of suitable utensils and ingredients meant the chicken wasn't quite up to usual standards (bad chefs always blame their equipment), and an exploding masquerading-as-Pyrex dish put paid to the caramelisation process for the dessert.
We chose Wednesday for a day off diving. The East Lothian contingent decided on a day checking out the plastic surgery on display at St Tropez while les lyonnais spent the morning wine shopping. Or rather spent the morning on a scenic but hairy drive up and over the Col du Canadel in the hope that la petite would nap on the way to the vineyard. She eventually did, but not before her mother had spent an anxious half hour piloting a new car along a road barely wide enough for one old car, let alone two, with a precipitous drop on one side and a ditch and rock wall on the other. We eventually reached the Domaine de l'Angueiroun with nerves jangling but intact, and enjoyed a wine tasting session which ended with this so-called connoisseur choking (accidentally, I hasten to add) and the purchase of two cases.
After a much needed nap for all of us, ice creams in the village were followed by fun and frolics for the smallest member of the family in the fountains that are set into the floor of the village square. Once the NB lifeboat crew returned from glitz of St Tropez, we all went out for dinner again to the Tropicana Beach. Living the high life.
A lazy Thursday morning for la petite famille ensued, while the chefs for the day got busy at the supermarket and in the kitchen. The sun shone and the wind howled outside but the afternoon dive still went ahead. Papa and Auntie Sogs learned with a groan that the site was Pointe de la Galère, chosen for its protection from the easterly gale. However, it turned out to be the best dive of the week for me, as I managed to drag my buddies (a random stranger had joined us) over to the east side of the point, which rewarded us with a ring-side view of a large school of patrolling barracuda. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, la petite coquinette was amusing herself and her mother with a game of hide and seek in the living room dresser, and a gin palace amused everyone by coming adrift from its mooring and being battered by the waves on the beach. Rich boys should learn to tie knots.
The results of the morning's labour in the kitchen was seen in the evening - delicious spicy lamb tajine followed by sweet Eton Mess. Lovely. And more beer, wine and games of peanut-head to follow.
On Friday, mama once again generously put toddler time ahead of time and depth, and allowed the other three divers to enjoy a full day out at Port Cros. Which was indeed enjoyable, though still-stiff easterlies restricted diving to the lee-side of la Gabinière and Pointe de la Croix, neither of which are noted as particular gems of the region. Lunch in a Port Cros café in the warm sunshine was very pleasant though.
Meanwhile, back on the mainland, la bienheureuse et la petite set off after lunch to collect the Margarita Man, delayed by bereavement but nonetheless keen to pay a flying visit. The half hour trip each way to the airport didn't allow la petite coquinette an afternoon nap, but the additional entertainment provided by her favourite builder kept her amused and mostly even-tempered until the evening. The core La Fav gang thus reunited, we had dinner at La Rade in the port. Tasty food but slow service meant papa only had one course before it was his turn to take the tired toddler home to bed. The compensation, with no diving the next day, was more beer, wine and peanut-head once the rest of the card school returned.
Our last full day was spent on a brief dip in the pool in the morning - brrr, water colder than the sea - and, after lunch and naps, on a wander along the coastal path towards Le Lavandou and back in the perennial sunshine, followed by more playing in the water jets.
For the last supper it was back to La Brasserie, where a fine week was celebrated with champagne. A rather more leisurely final morning than usual was possible the following day thanks to the Sunday checkout and consequent lack of time constraints. Thus we were all able to have lunch together one last time in the Provençal sunshine before going our separate ways - Nice airport via one final shower for the Scottish party, Lyon via Hyères airport to drop off uncle Margarita for the Lyon lot. And a fast, smooth, quiet drive (albeit on an autoroute busier than expected) got us home by seven, tired but happy after yet another great week on the Côte d'Azur.
Lazy Monday morning, though a somewhat earlier start than hoped for due to a toddler waking up and excitedly finding her parents in the same room, and slightly marred by the downstairs neighbour complaining about the noise. Shut that young child up…
And so to the first dive of the week and the discovery of the Bormes boys new headquarters. La bienheureuse generously volunteered for baby-sitting and beach life-guard duty leaving me to enjoy a trip in the afternoon sunshine to Pointe de la Galère with our two buddies. Pleasant enough pootle, though current and depth restrictions limited us to the less interesting west side of the point. In the evening, a return to a favourite haunt, la Brasserie du Port. Soupe de Poisson and Mousse au Chocolat naturally on the menu and, despite her parents' apprehensions, la petite coquinette displayed almost perfect table manners, albeit aided and abetted by a portable DVD player. Once again la bienheureuse chose the short straw and took baby home to bed, though the rest of us weren't too far behind. Wine, beer and a few traditional games of peanut-head followed. A girls off-night at the card table.
An early start the next morning because it was decided to do the morning dive. La mère plongeuse eventually overcame the apprehension at her first dive in over two years and accompanied the Soggy diver on the trip to Pointe de Montremian. The ski slope delivered its usual lovely dive though a National Instructor's current phobia put paid to the plan to swim out to the pinnacle. Meanwhile, la petite napped, papa lazed, and the RNLI cox explored Le Lavandou. Late afternoon was spent at the seaside, where la petite travailleuse busied herself in an ultimately fruitless attempt to transfer all the sand from the beach to the sea.
Dinner in that night, and we settled for two reliable old favourites - poulet au lait & tarte tatin. Or not-so-reliable old favourites. Though both dishes turned out to be tasty enough, a lack of suitable utensils and ingredients meant the chicken wasn't quite up to usual standards (bad chefs always blame their equipment), and an exploding masquerading-as-Pyrex dish put paid to the caramelisation process for the dessert.
After a much needed nap for all of us, ice creams in the village were followed by fun and frolics for the smallest member of the family in the fountains that are set into the floor of the village square. Once the NB lifeboat crew returned from glitz of St Tropez, we all went out for dinner again to the Tropicana Beach. Living the high life.
A lazy Thursday morning for la petite famille ensued, while the chefs for the day got busy at the supermarket and in the kitchen. The sun shone and the wind howled outside but the afternoon dive still went ahead. Papa and Auntie Sogs learned with a groan that the site was Pointe de la Galère, chosen for its protection from the easterly gale. However, it turned out to be the best dive of the week for me, as I managed to drag my buddies (a random stranger had joined us) over to the east side of the point, which rewarded us with a ring-side view of a large school of patrolling barracuda. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, la petite coquinette was amusing herself and her mother with a game of hide and seek in the living room dresser, and a gin palace amused everyone by coming adrift from its mooring and being battered by the waves on the beach. Rich boys should learn to tie knots.
On Friday, mama once again generously put toddler time ahead of time and depth, and allowed the other three divers to enjoy a full day out at Port Cros. Which was indeed enjoyable, though still-stiff easterlies restricted diving to the lee-side of la Gabinière and Pointe de la Croix, neither of which are noted as particular gems of the region. Lunch in a Port Cros café in the warm sunshine was very pleasant though.
Meanwhile, back on the mainland, la bienheureuse et la petite set off after lunch to collect the Margarita Man, delayed by bereavement but nonetheless keen to pay a flying visit. The half hour trip each way to the airport didn't allow la petite coquinette an afternoon nap, but the additional entertainment provided by her favourite builder kept her amused and mostly even-tempered until the evening. The core La Fav gang thus reunited, we had dinner at La Rade in the port. Tasty food but slow service meant papa only had one course before it was his turn to take the tired toddler home to bed. The compensation, with no diving the next day, was more beer, wine and peanut-head once the rest of the card school returned.
Our last full day was spent on a brief dip in the pool in the morning - brrr, water colder than the sea - and, after lunch and naps, on a wander along the coastal path towards Le Lavandou and back in the perennial sunshine, followed by more playing in the water jets.
For the last supper it was back to La Brasserie, where a fine week was celebrated with champagne. A rather more leisurely final morning than usual was possible the following day thanks to the Sunday checkout and consequent lack of time constraints. Thus we were all able to have lunch together one last time in the Provençal sunshine before going our separate ways - Nice airport via one final shower for the Scottish party, Lyon via Hyères airport to drop off uncle Margarita for the Lyon lot. And a fast, smooth, quiet drive (albeit on an autoroute busier than expected) got us home by seven, tired but happy after yet another great week on the Côte d'Azur.
11 juillet 2012
Mellow yellow
A fortnight has passed and much has happened. La belle-mère arrived for a two week visit, she and la petite-fille spent three days getting reacquainted in hot Lyon and then we all set off in the petite voiture for a week's holiday in the deep sud-ouest; more specifically the Lot-et-Garonne, a gentle land of green and gold, sunflowers and hazelnuts, ruined castles and hilltop mediaeval villages. We arrived at our base for the week, holiday residences near Monflanquin, after a smooth eight hour journey punctuated by service stops to keep la petite voyageuse from going car-seat crazy. We settled in and the week thereafter followed something of a routine - morning outing, relaxed afternoon, early evening swim, dinner and early to bed.
Sunday: with the aim of purchasing provisions for the first couple of days, we chose a morning trip to Pujols, a mediaeval village classed as l'un des plus beaux villages de France. Perched on a hilltop, with a Sunday market, it was indeed notably pretty. Provisions duly acquired, we sat down for a pizza lunch as the skies cleared, la petite made friends with the children from a large group of Dutch tourists and then displayed her talent for the grand departure by dramatically blowing a kiss at the perfect moment as we left. Mass "aaahhh". A scenic route home allowed a short afternoon nap, and then we sampled the heated outdoor pool in the holiday complex. Very pleasant.
Monday: the Chateau de Gavaudun was the chosen destination for the day's outing. On a warm sunny day we climbed and wriggled through the narrow entrance in a sheer rock face, and admired the views of the ruined castle and beyond from the top of the castle keep. Thence back to base for a late lunch, and late nap for la petite, which lasted three hours. Unheard of…
Wednesday: the weather broke, and heavy showers that came and went all day persuaded us to stay put and watch the rain coming down from the cover of the apartment. La bienheureuse cured a stir-crazy daughter by taking her for a walk in the rain, and then, like true Brits on holiday, we all went for a swim in a deserted pool despite a 10 degree drop in temperatures from the previous day.
Thursday: even cooler and wetter. Undaunted, we set off on the traditional morning outing, choosing a hazelnut farm with a self-styled 'museum' on the theory that we would be under cover. True enough, though we had a short wait outside while the owner came across from the farm to open the doors for us. Being the only visitors we had the benefit of a personal tour and tasting session, and naturally came away weighed down with nut oil, nut biscuits and nutty sweets. A short stop at another farm shop allowed us to stock up on that other local specialty, prunes. As it was even colder we skipped the swim in the pool on our return.
Saturday: homeward bound. A seven hour trip, including only two stops for a more travel-hardy toddler, and we were back in warm, muggy Lyon by five pm. The end of a pleasant and more relaxing than might have been expected week…
The last few days of la belle-mère's visit passed quickly for some. La bienheureuse spent 2 days and a night away in the company mother country while la grand-mère et la petite-fille enjoyed each other's company, apart from an extreme reluctance on the latter's part to go to bed. Perhaps the after-effects of a holiday during which she slept a lot during the day and went to bed late. Perhaps she was missing mama, or perhaps she was missing Wednesdays with her little playmates, as our nanny-sharing arrangement with the neighbours has sadly come to an unexpected and abrupt end.
Monday: the Chateau de Gavaudun was the chosen destination for the day's outing. On a warm sunny day we climbed and wriggled through the narrow entrance in a sheer rock face, and admired the views of the ruined castle and beyond from the top of the castle keep. Thence back to base for a late lunch, and late nap for la petite, which lasted three hours. Unheard of…
Tuesday: on the sunniest, hottest day of the week, we drove to le Jardin des Nenuphars, a calm and pretty garden of water-lilies and lotus flowers. The decision to stay for lunch in the outdoor café was the low point of the day. More than two hours later we finally finished the meal. A coach party of pensioners was the likely cause, but la petite didn't care, she just got ratty. However, the return to Monflanquin was notable for a couple of firsts. We took another scenic route home in the hope that la petite coquinette would sleep, a plan that worked better than our wildest dreams. Firstly she slept one when we stopped to look at a windmill on a hill, and then slept almost all the way home, a total of well over an hour. First time she's stayed asleep for more than 40 minutes in the car. A swim in the pool at the end of a hot day was more than welcome.
Wednesday: the weather broke, and heavy showers that came and went all day persuaded us to stay put and watch the rain coming down from the cover of the apartment. La bienheureuse cured a stir-crazy daughter by taking her for a walk in the rain, and then, like true Brits on holiday, we all went for a swim in a deserted pool despite a 10 degree drop in temperatures from the previous day.
Thursday: even cooler and wetter. Undaunted, we set off on the traditional morning outing, choosing a hazelnut farm with a self-styled 'museum' on the theory that we would be under cover. True enough, though we had a short wait outside while the owner came across from the farm to open the doors for us. Being the only visitors we had the benefit of a personal tour and tasting session, and naturally came away weighed down with nut oil, nut biscuits and nutty sweets. A short stop at another farm shop allowed us to stock up on that other local specialty, prunes. As it was even colder we skipped the swim in the pool on our return.
Friday: an improvement in the weather encouraged yet another outing, to another ruined castle. Le Chateau de Bonaguil calls itself the most beautiful fortified castle in France, and most impressive it was too, even if we were there a day early for the mediaeval fête the following weekend. After a picnic lunch in a shady spot above the chateau, we drove back to base and then, while the three generations of females slept or read according to age, the token male was given time off to finally visit Monflanquin, another plus beaux villages de France perched high on a hill. And very pretty it was too, all narrow alleys and picturesque stone buildings with an impressive central square bordered by arcades.
Saturday: homeward bound. A seven hour trip, including only two stops for a more travel-hardy toddler, and we were back in warm, muggy Lyon by five pm. The end of a pleasant and more relaxing than might have been expected week…
The last few days of la belle-mère's visit passed quickly for some. La bienheureuse spent 2 days and a night away in the company mother country while la grand-mère et la petite-fille enjoyed each other's company, apart from an extreme reluctance on the latter's part to go to bed. Perhaps the after-effects of a holiday during which she slept a lot during the day and went to bed late. Perhaps she was missing mama, or perhaps she was missing Wednesdays with her little playmates, as our nanny-sharing arrangement with the neighbours has sadly come to an unexpected and abrupt end.
06 juin 2012
Sun & water dance
On Saturday, the sun shone, the temperature climbed into the thirties and we spent the afternoon at the Fête de l'Eau, not so much a water party as the Jons village fête. A friend of la bienheureuse was one of the organisers, hence our presence, and we enjoyed delicious paella for lunch in the sweltering heat. Someone had rather thoughtlessly cut down the large trees that had apparently provided shade in previous years, but a giant marquee fortunately sheltered the lunch party from the worst of the sun, even if it also trapped warm air somewhat.
On the agenda after lunch was a guided visit to the Barrage de Jons, one of the dams on the Rhône management system that diverts water to a small hydroelectric station upriver of Lyon. Meanwhile, back at the party, dancing dogs, rides in horse-drawn carriages and various river craft continued through the afternoon. And so did the music, the rhumba band delighting la petite danseuse so much that she climbed up onto the dance floor and led the boogying.
The next day we recovered and the water arrived a day late, lots of it falling from the sky. As if in sympathy, the thermometer mercury tumbled too, a full fifteen degrees. From midsummer to early spring in one fell swoop, and la petite grognarde went a little stir crazy, despite being taken out for a walk in the rain by maman while papa remained dry in front of the TV tennis. Or perhaps she was suffering from the previous day's excitement and lack of sleep. Still, the day spent mostly indoors allowed her to practise her latest skill, climbing. Nothing so easy as the sofa for her. No, something more challenging like the baby walker or the wooden activity box. And once she's reached the top and stood up, the huge self-congratulatory grin - 'look, no hands, how clever am I?' - makes it hard to tell her off with a straight face.
A few days earlier a different sort of water was falling from above. La bienheureuse went into la petite chambre and realised there was leak coming from l'appartement au dessus. Visions of the infamous flood of 2006 came flooding back and she dashed upstairs to warn the neighbours. Yes, the same flat and the same neighbours who were the origin of that six month nightmare.
Meanwhile, I hastened to see how many buckets might be required, only to find that the leak had stopped. The neighbours arrived in a state of some bemusement until Monsieur said to Madame, "Did you just water the plants?". She nodded. A simple case of an overfilled house plant pot; only damage - a couple of small damp patches on the bed cover. Phew!
A few days earlier a different sort of water was falling from above. La bienheureuse went into la petite chambre and realised there was leak coming from l'appartement au dessus. Visions of the infamous flood of 2006 came flooding back and she dashed upstairs to warn the neighbours. Yes, the same flat and the same neighbours who were the origin of that six month nightmare.
Meanwhile, I hastened to see how many buckets might be required, only to find that the leak had stopped. The neighbours arrived in a state of some bemusement until Monsieur said to Madame, "Did you just water the plants?". She nodded. A simple case of an overfilled house plant pot; only damage - a couple of small damp patches on the bed cover. Phew!
14 mars 2012
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.
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.
10 mars 2012
Infectious affection
Twelve months can pass very quickly. La petite coquinette is now in her second year of life. It seems just a short while ago that she was making us wait before making an appearance. She celebrated her first birthday with a couple of other firsts - first day (in fact half-day) spent away from both parents, and first cold. The former, in the company of two little neighbours downstairs and their nanny, was the start of a regular one day a week event. She was apparently quite unconcerned about being left in the company of strangers for several hours. Meanwhile the apartment got a much-needed spring clean as her mother distracted herself.
The cold was a less welcome novelty and serves her right for kissing strange boys in the street. Told you she was precocious. Though in fact it was her suitor who made the first move - another toddler, a few months older, judging by his size, spotted her while we were strolling along the river, made a bee line for her and started smothering her with bisous. She was quite unfazed by it all, but then she's used it. That was the third spontaneous show of affection from passers by she's inspired in recent week. A young woman planted a kiss on her brow a few weeks ago, and then a young man chucked her on the cheek a few days ago. I guess we shouldn't be surprised…
I witnessed another show of affection this week when I made another pilgrimage across the Channel to witness the last rites of another Champions League season at the holy ground. Affection is something that hasn't been much in evidence among the fans in recent months, but the performance in so nearly coming back from a four goal deficit was worthy of it. Apart from the disappointment of coming so near and yet so far, it was a pleasant trip, with a pint or two and dinner in the pub with the Margarita man and a chatty young friend. I almost didn't make it either, with technical problems on the tram to the airport and the usual understaffing at the immigration control causing anxiety about catching the flight. The return leg was much smoother and I was home in time to sing happy birthday and share my snotty daughter's cake.
The following day la grand-mère bade us a reluctant goodbye and returned home, having completed her quota of baking and sewing chores and restocked her supply of grandchild memories. And so yesterday la petite enrhumée was left with just papa for entertainment and company during the day. We survived…
The cold was a less welcome novelty and serves her right for kissing strange boys in the street. Told you she was precocious. Though in fact it was her suitor who made the first move - another toddler, a few months older, judging by his size, spotted her while we were strolling along the river, made a bee line for her and started smothering her with bisous. She was quite unfazed by it all, but then she's used it. That was the third spontaneous show of affection from passers by she's inspired in recent week. A young woman planted a kiss on her brow a few weeks ago, and then a young man chucked her on the cheek a few days ago. I guess we shouldn't be surprised…
I witnessed another show of affection this week when I made another pilgrimage across the Channel to witness the last rites of another Champions League season at the holy ground. Affection is something that hasn't been much in evidence among the fans in recent months, but the performance in so nearly coming back from a four goal deficit was worthy of it. Apart from the disappointment of coming so near and yet so far, it was a pleasant trip, with a pint or two and dinner in the pub with the Margarita man and a chatty young friend. I almost didn't make it either, with technical problems on the tram to the airport and the usual understaffing at the immigration control causing anxiety about catching the flight. The return leg was much smoother and I was home in time to sing happy birthday and share my snotty daughter's cake.
The following day la grand-mère bade us a reluctant goodbye and returned home, having completed her quota of baking and sewing chores and restocked her supply of grandchild memories. And so yesterday la petite enrhumée was left with just papa for entertainment and company during the day. We survived…
03 février 2012
Chilled
Indoors we met the nanny from downstairs this morning. Nice lady, if a little brutally honest about my French. "It isn't any better after ten years?" So soon la petite coquinette will start learning to speak the local lingo better than her father, and start learning to share toys and playtime with a couple of little copains. And papa will rediscover free time. By which I mean time to write, of course...
23 janvier 2012
Up and down
The downgrade of France's credit rating last week was greeted with bristling defiance in government circles (who are these rating agencies anyway?), and seized as another stick to beat Sarko with by all his opponents in the forthcoming elections. The presidential campaign is starting to heat up with the big day a mere three months away. Socialist candidate François Hollande has been battling dissent and criticism from within his own party and not doing himself any favours with rather woolly policies. Meanwhile Sarko and Le Pen fille have been rivalling each other in trying not to appear to be identifying with national icon Jeanne d'Arc, the girl who beat the English, on the occasion of ther recent 600th anniversary of her birth. Only 90 more days to endure…
Our own little icon continues to develop and grow. Hiding objects and herself under the furniture is now something of a favourite game and getting from all fours into a standing position without any external support is now a given. Morning naps have been jettisoned in favour of ratty lunches and longer afternoon naps, the latter not without occasional vociferous complaint. She might soon have to cope with sharing nap and play time once a week with two other young children soon. Our downstairs neighbours are looking for another family to share their nounou with on Wednesdays. Don't think sharing is in her vocabulary yet. On verra… Meanwhile an early start and late return meant her mother missed two days of the little angel's development last week with another overnight trip to the company motherland, and another one coming up this week.
The weather has been up and down too. Mild and damp, punctuated by a dry cold snap last week, all adding up to a bumper Alpine ski season. I wistfully gaze up while my daughter keeps me occupied at an altitude of about 60 metres. It was relatively mild when we crossed the river yesterday and saw what we thought were a flotilla of canoes coming downstream. Turns out they were accompanying the annual Rhône swim, 8km from Caluire to Gerland. A long swim in single figure water temperatures, even if it was swollen with rain and fast flowing...
Our own little icon continues to develop and grow. Hiding objects and herself under the furniture is now something of a favourite game and getting from all fours into a standing position without any external support is now a given. Morning naps have been jettisoned in favour of ratty lunches and longer afternoon naps, the latter not without occasional vociferous complaint. She might soon have to cope with sharing nap and play time once a week with two other young children soon. Our downstairs neighbours are looking for another family to share their nounou with on Wednesdays. Don't think sharing is in her vocabulary yet. On verra… Meanwhile an early start and late return meant her mother missed two days of the little angel's development last week with another overnight trip to the company motherland, and another one coming up this week.
The weather has been up and down too. Mild and damp, punctuated by a dry cold snap last week, all adding up to a bumper Alpine ski season. I wistfully gaze up while my daughter keeps me occupied at an altitude of about 60 metres. It was relatively mild when we crossed the river yesterday and saw what we thought were a flotilla of canoes coming downstream. Turns out they were accompanying the annual Rhône swim, 8km from Caluire to Gerland. A long swim in single figure water temperatures, even if it was swollen with rain and fast flowing...
24 décembre 2010
Preparations
Most of the week seems to have been about getting ready for one thing and another. Tidying the house to welcome la belle-mère; finally getting a faulty cable TV box replaced; provisions shopping for the feast day; accepting more hand-me-downs, and attending more medical rendezvous in preparation for the big B-day. With a bit of football thrown in at the side.
Sunday evening we were invited to the neighbours again to watch le grand choque, l'Olympico as they've taken to calling it: Olympique de Marseille contre Olympique Lyonnais. La bienheureuse pleaded tiredness, leaving me to enjoy a couple of beers with the boys. And Babe the Unblog & babes. First half goal for the away team, things were looking good for les gones, but OM equalised and the resulting drawn left neither team happy. Another 1-1 draw on Wednesday night, witnessed in person at a Gerland basking in double figure temperatures. This time the away team, Auxerre, was rather happier with the result.
Third trimester echographie on Tuesday, all looking good apart from too much swimming water; Wednesday, a lesson in relaxation chez la sage-femme. Thursday la belle-mère arrived and we immediately dragged her out in the pouring rain to les Halles. Result of the shopping expedition: a 3kg goose, salmon and prawns. Mouth already watering in anticipation of an over-indulgent Christmas meal.
Today the weather is trying to get into the mood, by swirling a few snow flurries our way. Not sticking though, due to ground super-heated by 16 degree temperatures on Wednesday. See-saw winter.
Sunday evening we were invited to the neighbours again to watch le grand choque, l'Olympico as they've taken to calling it: Olympique de Marseille contre Olympique Lyonnais. La bienheureuse pleaded tiredness, leaving me to enjoy a couple of beers with the boys. And Babe the Unblog & babes. First half goal for the away team, things were looking good for les gones, but OM equalised and the resulting drawn left neither team happy. Another 1-1 draw on Wednesday night, witnessed in person at a Gerland basking in double figure temperatures. This time the away team, Auxerre, was rather happier with the result.
Third trimester echographie on Tuesday, all looking good apart from too much swimming water; Wednesday, a lesson in relaxation chez la sage-femme. Thursday la belle-mère arrived and we immediately dragged her out in the pouring rain to les Halles. Result of the shopping expedition: a 3kg goose, salmon and prawns. Mouth already watering in anticipation of an over-indulgent Christmas meal.
Today the weather is trying to get into the mood, by swirling a few snow flurries our way. Not sticking though, due to ground super-heated by 16 degree temperatures on Wednesday. See-saw winter.
19 décembre 2010
Cancelled out
The big freeze duly put paid to my Friday evening flight to Stansted, though it wasn't entirely clear why. There was a heavy snow shower while I travelled to the airport, and an inch or two on the ground there, but most other flights seemed to get away fine. I suspect the budget airlines would rather cough up refunds and subject their staff to irate passengers than risk getting their aircraft stuck in the wrong places. After vainly spending 3 uninformed hours at the airport I was as irate as the next passenger (though not as angry as some Marrakech holidaymakers whose flight was eventually cancelled nearly 5 hours after it was due to depart), but 12 hours later curses turned to thanks when the match at the holy ground was postponed less than 3 hours before kickoff. Merci, le grand froid britannique.
I've thus been able to spend a relaxing and lazy weekend chez moi watching ma bien-aimée put up Christmas decorations. The apartment has also suddenly filled up with enough tiny items of clothing to dress triplets, thanks to some exceedingly generous neighbours. Also taking up space is a cot, which they suddenly wanted us to take off their hands because newly acquired bunk beds took up far more space in their kids' room than expected. This after attending our first prenatal session on Friday morning. The coming event has abruptly become more tangible…
I've thus been able to spend a relaxing and lazy weekend chez moi watching ma bien-aimée put up Christmas decorations. The apartment has also suddenly filled up with enough tiny items of clothing to dress triplets, thanks to some exceedingly generous neighbours. Also taking up space is a cot, which they suddenly wanted us to take off their hands because newly acquired bunk beds took up far more space in their kids' room than expected. This after attending our first prenatal session on Friday morning. The coming event has abruptly become more tangible…
15 novembre 2010
Warming pictures
What a difference a week makes. La belle-mère comes to visit bearing gifts, and suddenly things are looking up. Unseasonably warm weather and plenty of sunshine for the long bank holiday weekend, and a warmer glow to the football season too.
mardi 9: l'AG continued. After some confusion over venue and indeed whether the meeting was taking place at all, we troop upstairs, listen to the man from the syndic report on progress made on various issues and eventually decide to give him a second chance. Contract extended for 18 months.
mercredi 10: collect la belle-mère from the airport after a fruitless drive through town in search of a petrol station. Usual one closed down, next one closed temporarily by road works. Which are currently all over Lyon. Sufficient fumes in the tank to make it to the garage at the airport.
jeudi 11: jour ferié, the sun is shining, the day mild and we take advantage with a stroll round the park to test the newly presented toy. The leaves are falling, the colours fading, but plenty of pretty pictures to be had before the clouds roll in.
vendredi 12: bridging day, so la bienheureuse is off work again. The exception to the good weather theme. Overcast but dry, so the ladies go shopping, taking a break to meet meet me for a nice pique nique en ville. Roast lamb and a rather palatable Côtes du Rhône for dinner.
samedi 13: stunning day. 20 degree sunshine in the middle of November can't be bad. We jump in the car and eventually find our way to the domaine de Lacroix-Laval, a large area of parkland just outside Lyon. Another opportunity for more autumn snaps with the new appareil photo reflex. Lovely stroll through the park and grounds of the publicly-owned château, then home for a late lunch and a lazy afternoon. Defrosted fish dinner, tasty fare even so.
dimanche 14: still very mild, but very windy too. The sun is less in evidence but we venture out up to the Croix Rousse for the view and a stroll through the market. Home to wolf down lunch in time for a rather more satisfactory visit to the pub, leaving la bienheureuse et sa mère in the kitchen. Second battling away win of the week. The boys are toughening up. Roast chicken awaits my return, then I fly the coop again in the evening, this time for live football. OL grind out a 1-0 win in the wind.
lundi 15: end of the fine weather interlude. Rain all morning.
mardi 9: l'AG continued. After some confusion over venue and indeed whether the meeting was taking place at all, we troop upstairs, listen to the man from the syndic report on progress made on various issues and eventually decide to give him a second chance. Contract extended for 18 months.
mercredi 10: collect la belle-mère from the airport after a fruitless drive through town in search of a petrol station. Usual one closed down, next one closed temporarily by road works. Which are currently all over Lyon. Sufficient fumes in the tank to make it to the garage at the airport.
jeudi 11: jour ferié, the sun is shining, the day mild and we take advantage with a stroll round the park to test the newly presented toy. The leaves are falling, the colours fading, but plenty of pretty pictures to be had before the clouds roll in.
samedi 13: stunning day. 20 degree sunshine in the middle of November can't be bad. We jump in the car and eventually find our way to the domaine de Lacroix-Laval, a large area of parkland just outside Lyon. Another opportunity for more autumn snaps with the new appareil photo reflex. Lovely stroll through the park and grounds of the publicly-owned château, then home for a late lunch and a lazy afternoon. Defrosted fish dinner, tasty fare even so.
25 mai 2010
Assembly of ruins and murals
The sun shone, the thermometer climbed, and we took advantage of the first real summer weekend to do a bit of exploring. The three day agenda (including Pentecost Monday, a 'semi' bank holiday in France), included lunch at a riverside café and stroll in the park on Saturday, painted wall hunting on Sunday and Roman aqueduct viewing on Monday.
Earlier in the week, on Thursday we were treated to an extraordinary (in more ways than one) meeting of our apartment building neighbours. The main reason the meeting was called was to approve the request to delay the AGM in order to decide on a new management company. Our current syndic is notable only for its incompetence and lack of reactivity, as illustrated by the fact that the AGM should have taken place six months ago, and one of the agenda items is to approve accounts for 2008. Anyway, the meeting once again took a familiar course. Lots of high speed talking, usually two or three people at one time, which meant I followed only about half of what was said. It seems to me that the French, especially the female variety, have brains wired in a different way to my own. They appear to have no problem talking and listening at the same time, and eventually a course of action was decided. The syndic won't be happy…
Les murs peints are a feature of Lyonnais culture, and on Sunday we decided to set out in search of one or two examples off the beaten, central Lyon tourist track. Venturing into the seventh arrondissement, we eventually found le Fresque Lumière and le Mur de Cinéma. Very impressive too, even if the former is better viewed at night when the lighting system brings it to life, but after the latter the six km walk took its toll on two bodies suffering from a mysterious malaise. Not hangovers, I hasten to add, but something else, perhaps the shock of seeing warm, sunny weather again.
Following sketchy directions in a pamphlet and a map illegible without reading glasses, we took a somewhat more roundabout route than intended but eventually stopped for a pleasant picnic lunch by a pond just outside Chaponost. La bienheureuse took over navigational duties thereafter, and we thus retraced the route we should have traced earlier with somewhat greater success, arriving back at the car, hot, sweaty but satisfied. We then drove into the village for a brief look around, finding another painted wall to complete the theme of the weekend.
Earlier in the week, on Thursday we were treated to an extraordinary (in more ways than one) meeting of our apartment building neighbours. The main reason the meeting was called was to approve the request to delay the AGM in order to decide on a new management company. Our current syndic is notable only for its incompetence and lack of reactivity, as illustrated by the fact that the AGM should have taken place six months ago, and one of the agenda items is to approve accounts for 2008. Anyway, the meeting once again took a familiar course. Lots of high speed talking, usually two or three people at one time, which meant I followed only about half of what was said. It seems to me that the French, especially the female variety, have brains wired in a different way to my own. They appear to have no problem talking and listening at the same time, and eventually a course of action was decided. The syndic won't be happy…
We had recovered enough the next day to mount a more ambitious expedition, driving out into the hills to the west of Lyon. Principal attraction of the area is some remains of the Roman aqueduct that carried water from the Monts du Lyonnais to downtown Lugdunum. After admiring the impressive selection near Chaponost, we set off on a 8km walk on the hottest day of the year so far and at the hottest time of day.
Following sketchy directions in a pamphlet and a map illegible without reading glasses, we took a somewhat more roundabout route than intended but eventually stopped for a pleasant picnic lunch by a pond just outside Chaponost. La bienheureuse took over navigational duties thereafter, and we thus retraced the route we should have traced earlier with somewhat greater success, arriving back at the car, hot, sweaty but satisfied. We then drove into the village for a brief look around, finding another painted wall to complete the theme of the weekend.
01 octobre 2009
Conflicts, conflagrations and conflabs
La grève continues. And hardens. Tuesday night there was a fire in a depot at one of the main bus stations. 34 vehicles were damaged by what later proved to be arson. Meanwhile, the mayor of Lyon was moved to pronounce that the strike had gone on too long. Yesterday, 70% of services were reportedly running, but the strike retains enough support to seriously inconvenience most commuters. There are union meetings today to decide on the next move. On verra...
Given that my own commuting consists of twenty paces from bedroom to 'study' (a cause for minor regret on a day like today - the spell of warm, sunny weather continues), it's only going to the football where the strike causes problems. La bienheureuse is still walking to work, though yesterday she took the car, but that was because of a meeting in a hotel on the outskirts of town followed by a social evening learning about wine in the Beaujolais. Left at home alone, I contented myself with watching overpaid galacticos fluke a 3-0 win over les marseillais. The previous evening we hadn't needed to budge from the sofa as for once I got the chance to watch the glorious Gunners at home, in both senses. Domination brought eventual reward. Meanwhile, on the subscription channel we don't get OL were strolling in a Hungarian park.
Earlier on Tuesday evening we had a co-owners meeting in the apartment of one of our neighbours, which not uncharacteristically went on long enough to leave me sweating about dinner burning in the oven and missing the start of the big match. Typical meeting - lots of talking at high speed, most of it by two stereotypical French madames: nineteen words to the dozen, two dozen words used where half a dozen would have sufficed; atypical outcome - decisions were reached. Perhaps because we have a new neighbour who is unusually calm and decisive. And she doesn't talk too fast to understand.
The first concerned the syndic - the company charged with administering the building. Our own syndic is singularly inefficient, not to say inactive. For five years we've talking about changing, and finally we all agreed to do so. At least those present at the meeting did. And we still have to decide who to replace them with...
The main reason for the meeting however, was to discuss the rubbish bins. Yes, a subject of much concern, believe it or not. A lot of protocol is involved in the use of poubelles in French apartment blocks. Our particular bone of contention is with the restaurant that occupies the ground floor. According to building and city council rules, restaurants are required to make use of specialized outside companies to dispose of waste generated by the kitchen, rather than using the daily rubbish bin collections. Of course this costs money, and not surprisingly le resto downstairs prefers not to cough up and just uses the bins.
Our bins.
They do apparently have one normal rubbish bin, and one recycling bin allocated to them, but of course a busy kitchen generates much more detritus than two small wheelie bins can hold, and so they stuff all of our bins every day, leaving us poor inhabitants nowhere to dump our rubbish. Quelle horreur! Not only that, but their bin has a large crack in the bottom through which kitchen waste often leaks, leaving a smelly, slimey mess all over the floor, which then gets trailed out through the lobby when the bins are emptied.
Another thing about the restaurant that gets our neighbours' backs up is the noise at night. The restaurant often hosts parties of one sort and another, sometimes involving loud music, which keep our first floor neighbours in particular awake. Music they don't have a license for. All these issues (there's another, involving deliveries, which I won't go into), have at one time or another been taken up with the restaurant management by one of our neighbours or another, with varying degrees of politeness. Much is always promised, nothing is ever done. So, it was decided to send them a polite but firm letter, pointing listing all these points, pointing out all the rules, and informing them that if it's not taken, the next time we will be forced to have recourse to the law. On verra...
04 mai 2009
Bank holiday sunshine
The 1st May jour ferié in France falls on the day itself, so we had Friday off here rather than today. And for a change we were the sole stay-at-home inhabitants of our building while all the neighbours escaped the city. And a very pleasant weekend it was too. Warm, with more or less dawn to dusk sunshine. A lazy Friday with only a stroll out for a lunch at a riverside café was followed by a slightly more active Saturday. A meander through town, a comfortable afternoon's football viewing in the pub, then a wander along the river for an early dinner and some escapist mutant cinema. Only downside, OL's loss which leaves them a long way from the eighth title in a row.
It was another warm, sunny day yesterday, but la bienheureuse got an attack of spring-cleaning madness so much of the day was spent sorting and throwing out 7 years worth of accumulated junk. Mostly accumulated by me. Well, you never know when those 27 empty cardboard boxes might come in useful. We did make it out for another riverside stroll and drink in the late afternoon sunshine.
Next stop for me, Blighty, abandoning ma bien-aimée for a week to subject myself to some nervous football watching...
It was another warm, sunny day yesterday, but la bienheureuse got an attack of spring-cleaning madness so much of the day was spent sorting and throwing out 7 years worth of accumulated junk. Mostly accumulated by me. Well, you never know when those 27 empty cardboard boxes might come in useful. We did make it out for another riverside stroll and drink in the late afternoon sunshine.
Next stop for me, Blighty, abandoning ma bien-aimée for a week to subject myself to some nervous football watching...
19 mars 2009
La crise, la grève, le soleil
Today sees the second journée nationale de mobilisation in France since the turn of the year. To protest against la crise financière, the government's response to it, job losses, educational reforms, and anything else you can think of. National newspaper Libération is carrying a poll today showing that nearly three quarters of the population is sympathetic to the day of strikes/action. Support on the ground appears somewhat less widespread, if you believe the Paris-centric national press anyway. The Paris metro and buses are apparently running more or less normally, more trains and TGVs are running than predicted and fewer Parisian traffic jams than normal were reported this morning.
Slightly different story elsewhere. Most other regional transport systems are significantly affected by the strike. In Lyon for instance, only about three in four metros and fewer than half the buses and trams are running. Most schools here are also out for the day, as evidenced by le gosse au dessus going slightly stir crazy earlier this morning. For university teachers it's carry on as before. ie the strike which has been going on since the new year to protest about university reforms continues.
The unions seem to have the weather on their side for the planned demonstrations all over the country. Most of France has been bathed in glorious sunshine for the last week, and it's forecast to continue over the weekend. Spring and discontent are in the air...
The other crisis, in the Caribbean, was seemingly resolved last month, when the government, employers and strike leaders in Guadaloupe and Martinique finally hammered out deals (different ones on each island). The unrest has now moved to La Réunion. As far as I can tell the main result of the Caribbean crisis was a 200 euro increase in monthly salary for the low-paid, part of which will be funded by the government, part by the employers, and a price reduction of a range of staple products. Remains to be seen how long the fragile peace lasts though. The main strike leader in Guadaloupe has since been charged with inciting racial hatred for comments made about the béké, the ruling white class, during the dispute...
Slightly different story elsewhere. Most other regional transport systems are significantly affected by the strike. In Lyon for instance, only about three in four metros and fewer than half the buses and trams are running. Most schools here are also out for the day, as evidenced by le gosse au dessus going slightly stir crazy earlier this morning. For university teachers it's carry on as before. ie the strike which has been going on since the new year to protest about university reforms continues.
The unions seem to have the weather on their side for the planned demonstrations all over the country. Most of France has been bathed in glorious sunshine for the last week, and it's forecast to continue over the weekend. Spring and discontent are in the air...
The other crisis, in the Caribbean, was seemingly resolved last month, when the government, employers and strike leaders in Guadaloupe and Martinique finally hammered out deals (different ones on each island). The unrest has now moved to La Réunion. As far as I can tell the main result of the Caribbean crisis was a 200 euro increase in monthly salary for the low-paid, part of which will be funded by the government, part by the employers, and a price reduction of a range of staple products. Remains to be seen how long the fragile peace lasts though. The main strike leader in Guadaloupe has since been charged with inciting racial hatred for comments made about the béké, the ruling white class, during the dispute...
17 novembre 2008
Mixed and missed matches
Highs and lows. After the social excitement of last weekend, a quieter Saturday and Sunday just gone. A minor trek around the pubs and bars of Lyon on Saturday eventually turned up one showing the relevant game of the round football variety, rather that the sundry egg-chasing internationals elsewhere. Wish I hadn't bothered.
My French team of choice fared rather better last night, despite being overrun for most of the game by Bordeaux. Two first half goals were enough to hold out during a second half seige. The visitors got one back late on but it wasn't enough to overcome the sort of performance French commentators somewhat euphemistically call a 'très realiste'.
The novelty for me was going to the game with one of our neighbours, rather than la bienheureuse (who jetted off in the afternoon on yet another business trip - York rather than Monnheim for a change). It arose after Madame engaged me in a conversation about football a couple of weeks ago, and told me her husband would welcome the chance to go to a match with us. As it happens that's problematic as we're season ticket holders with fixed places, but I said if one of us wasn't going he'd be welcome to use the spare ticket. Nice to get to know at least one of les voisins a bit better. Only taken 6 years...
My French team of choice fared rather better last night, despite being overrun for most of the game by Bordeaux. Two first half goals were enough to hold out during a second half seige. The visitors got one back late on but it wasn't enough to overcome the sort of performance French commentators somewhat euphemistically call a 'très realiste'.
The novelty for me was going to the game with one of our neighbours, rather than la bienheureuse (who jetted off in the afternoon on yet another business trip - York rather than Monnheim for a change). It arose after Madame engaged me in a conversation about football a couple of weeks ago, and told me her husband would welcome the chance to go to a match with us. As it happens that's problematic as we're season ticket holders with fixed places, but I said if one of us wasn't going he'd be welcome to use the spare ticket. Nice to get to know at least one of les voisins a bit better. Only taken 6 years...
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