Heating up

And so the Olympics are over, life returns to normal and I get off my TV couch and high horse. If my previous blog entry gave the impression of an anti-British view of the London games in France, I should perhaps correct it. In general they have been well received in France, particularly with a minor French gold rush in the final weekend, culminating in a second successive gold for "les Experts" all-conquering handballers. It was rather France TV's sports presenters who I was ranting about, and they can be characterised as a group of grumpy old men nursing a grudge that it was the BBC rather than France TV who were the host broadcasters for the games…

Meanwhile, the domestic sporting arena has been confined to la petite performing gymnastics on the sofa, and a couple of trips to an aquatic complex that opened relatively recently just outside Lyon. With three indoor and three outdoor pools, including paddling pools, 'fun' pools and plain swimming pools it is the ideal place to take a toddler swimming. We'll cure that aversion to getting water in her eyes yet…

Elsewhere life trundles along much as normal. Another aversion of la petite coquinette, that of being examined by a doctor, is still alive, kicking and screaming you might say. A trip to the paediatrician for another jab and a certificate stating that she is safe to be let loose amongst other children in a crèche resulted in the loudest and strongest screaming and struggling fit yet. She is otherwise in perfect health.

The weather recently has been mostly warm and sunny, and the forecast is for temperatures in the upper 30s from this weekend onwards. Good job we are escaping to cool Britannia...

Sour grapes

La bienheureuse et la petite have both suffered but coped remarkably well over the last week while I feed my TV sport-watching habit, though the latter has been displaying more of her naughty side recently, perhaps as a protest at not getting enough attention. My excuse is of course that the summer Olympics only come along every four years, and the Olympics in one of my home countries only come along roughly once every thirty years. Not that I've been able to as fully satisfy my urge as I no doubt would have done had we been living back in Blighty. Coverage of the games in France has more or less been restricted to two channels, and naturally that coverage has tended to concentrate on the fortunes of home heroes. Envious of the BBC's 24 live HD streams, moi?

Early on in the fortnight, TV coverage on France Televisions adopted a tone which was a mixture of the genial and the exultant, as French golds in the swimming, canoeing and judo rolled in. Midway through the first week they were having a quiet snigger at the fact that the host country was still awaiting its first title. No doubt I'm just being cynical, but I detected a bit of revelling in schadenfreude. The games should of course have been in Paris not London.

However, it all changed a week ago when the British gold stream started flowing just as the French one dried up. Firstly the presenters on France TV made a big fuss about alleged British cheating in the cycling and rowing, judges favouring British competitors, etc, etc. The fact that the French cycling coach inconveniently admitted that they would also have deliberately crashed in the event of a poor start was largely ignored. As for the bias towards home competitors, dare I suggest it was bit of a sore point. The games after all should have been in France...

Since then it seems to this particular viewer, albeit perhaps overly sensitive, that British successes have been pointedly ignored. At one point France 2 was showing badminton, a game normally rarer on TV than tiddlywinks, while a track cycling final that ended in British victory was going on. This in a country that is home to the greatest cycling race in the world. Fortunately Eurosport was immune to partisan considerations and showed the cycling. It was almost enough to turn me into a bigoted nationalist.

There has also been constant carping by commentators about problems (transport nightmares) and perceived injustices at the London games, particularly the alleged marginalising of the French language. One presenter was outraged by the lack of announcements in French during an archery event at Lords. Well, what did he expect of an institution that only started admitting women members a little over ten years ago? It was of course a Frenchman who was the driving force behind the first modern Olympics, though a certain Shropshire village claims he got the idea from them. The modern Olympics are a British invention after all. So there…

Keeping count

As the weather in Lyon finally seems to be tending towards spring, so the winter Olympics dominate the TV and sporting news. La France was rather pleased with itself early on - 7 medals, including 2 golds, garnered during the first 3 days.  After the feast, the famine. No French medals to celebrate between Tuesday and Saturday. Redemption on Sunday in the form of the biathlon, again. At last another medal, silver this time.

From sporting escape to goal break. The famous escapee of last year, Jean-Pierre Treiber, was found hanged in his cell on Saturday, so ending his life in a blaze of publicity to match that surrounding 3 months on the run from prison last year and the original double murder of two women (including a well known actress) of which he was accused. In a note allegedly found in his cell, he continues to claim innocence. The truth will probably never be known...

Domestically, life in Lyon trundles along. We had dinner out on Saturday, for the first time in months, and sampled a smart new Italian restaurant a few minutes walk from the apartment. Very nice Mon Bistrot Italien was too, even if it was second choice, suggested by the restaurant I originally chose, which is closed Saturdays. Note to organiser, check opening hours first. The upset stomach suffered afterwards was not believed to be connected with Italian food, rather the bad domestic habit of consuming food well after the sell-by date. HP sauce the prime suspect on this occasion, though the bacon butties were very nice. Thus physical activity on Sunday was restricted to a gentle walk and an afternoon's sleuthing in the cinema.

Finally, a small red letter day today - 10 merveilleux ans de vie ensemble. Congratulations to ma bien-aimée for putting up with me so long. A small celebration in order this evening...