Ups and downs

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

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

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

Frozen out

The first snow of the winter fell in Lyon on the first day of the first winter month. A mere centimetre or so, but a sign that winter has arrived. That other harbinger of winter in Lyon, la Fête des Lumières takes place this weekend, an event that has lured la belle-mère across the channel for her habitual visit. Light energy and a small bundle of human energy - enough to keep her entertained almost full time. Any spare time is taken up with acting as temporary kitchen maid and seamstress.

Meanwhile, the predicted traffic armageddon in Lyon due to the closure of the Croix Rousse tunnel never happened, but almost arrived yesterday. The Franco-Italian summit was held in Lyon, leading to an all-day exclusion zone round the Prefecture du Rhône, cancellation of any buses going anywhere nearby, large traffic jams and much complaining by commuters. All with the aim of keeping protests about the proposed Lyon-Turin high-speed rail link at bay. In the end there were fewer than 1000 protestors, and most of the those arrived late in the day having been deliberately held up by police checks on the buses bringing them from Italy. Democracy and freedom of speech, who needs it…

President Hollande might have been spared the anti rail-link demonstrations, but he is still under fire from almost everywhere else. Rising unemployment, French credit-rating downgraded, low growth, etc, etc. Still, the main opposition have managed to bring him temporary respite by going into self-destruct mode. The recent UMP leadership election led to the victory of Jean-François Copé over François Fillon by a mere 98 votes in several hundred thousand. Despite a later recount somehow increasing the lead to nearly a thousand, the UMP seems almost irreconcilably split in two, Copé's hard right faction against the Fillon moderates. Seems likely to be a while before the right organises itself into an effective opposition to the government. Don't be surprised to see Sarko making a comeback in a couple of years, in time for the next presidential elections…

Travel sick notes

Ten days of visits and visitors started last Thursday with an afternoon flight to Stansted, la petite coquinette's first experience of being cooped up in a plane since she turned one and started to walk. Not being the type to immediately fall asleep when travelling, she was rather uppity during the 80 minute flight but kept reasonably quiet by dint of a supply of biscuits and flapjack, a helpful neighbour in the aisle seat and a session of toddling up and down the aircraft.

The journey from Stansted to Bexleyheath in a hired people carrier (reason for which will become clear later) via M11 and M25 at rush hour was remarkably quick and smooth, and we arrived chez the Doctors C in the early evening in time for dinner. The mini-jezoids helped entertain and feed la petite and we eventually got her into bed a mere two hours later than normal. A restless night followed. Note to selves: if at all possible, avoid sharing a room with small daughter who fidgets and moves around in her sleep, something that was necessitated on this occasion by our hosts being in the middle of carpet laying.

The following morning we watched the rain coming down to a soundtrack of carpet tacks being banged home upstairs while our daughter entertained the lovely Dr L and worked her way through the stock of toys piled in the dining room. The weather cleared enough in the afternoon to allow a shoe shopping expedition before we waved goodbye and set off for our next destination.

The South Circular was somewhat slower early on a Friday rush hour than the M25 late on a Thursday rush hour, but we arrived in Bromley late in the afternoon to be effusively greeted by la cuñada dos. Le grand frère was also visiting for the weekend and le petit frère arrived home from work soon after our arrival. A convivial evening followed, as did another restless night, same reasons as above.

On Saturday I took temporary leave of absence from the family gathering to attend the last home game of the season ritual at the home of good football. Said good football had apparently deserted its home, at least in the first half, but seemed to have returned just in time to ensure a satisfactory season ending, only for the Canaries to spoil the party by accepting the gift of a late equaliser. I thus returned south of the river in ambivalent mood, which was alleviated by another pleasant evening and subsequent results the following day.

Marking time was the theme of the day on Sunday, as we all waited for the main event, the arrival of las chicas from Down Under via a university visit in Nottingham and a rainstorm in Hong Kong. Waiting time was filled with a cold weather gear trip to the local playground, a bit of shopping and such lazing around as an energetic 14 month old allows five adults. La cuñada y la sobrina uno eventually put in an appearance mid-evening, by which time la petite and her mother were already in bed, the latter somewhat earlier than planned because she was suffering with an extremely dodgy tummy. Whether due to poisoning by her sister-in-law's cooking or a vomiting virus wasn't clear at the time but no simultaneous, and later victims of the same malady seemed to suggest the latter.

While the election of a new president in France passed almost unnoticed in a small part of Bromley, overnight la petite slept more soundly than previously, possibly resting easy in the knowledge that Sarko had become the first French Fifth Republic president to fail to be re-elected but more probably because it was her third night in a row in the same bed. The same couldn't be said of either of her parents for differing reasons, but we were nonetheless up bright and early, soon to be joined by the new guests for their first encounter with their niece and cousin respectively. 

By late morning, la bienheureuse had recovered sufficiently, even if her appetite hadn't, to undertake the trip home without fear of leaving a techicolour yawn en route. So we bade goodbye to la belle-soeur cadette et les deux frères and set off for the airport with the extra seats and luggage space in the Sharan taken up by the Austral-Anglo-Colombian girls. After a reasonably smooth six hour trip (albeit variously smeared with yoghurt and banana - messy business feeding a one year old on an aeroplane) we were home in warm, sunny Lyon. Two hours after we got back it was my turn to start throwing up, and it wasn't travel sickness…

Laboured endings

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

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

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

Cold revisits

Theme of the month: ill health. After four weeks of coughing and snuffling, a sore and blocked ear finally drove la bienheureuse to consult the doctor. Result: a medicine cabinet full of drugs, and a gradual recovery. Apart that is from the ear problem, which led la travailleuse to cancel a trip to Milan today. Upside of that is not missing two bath and bedtimes with la petite. Meanwhile, the latter has been suffering with her own cold, again. Third time the wretched virus has paid her a visit in the last six weeks.

As for papa, he thought his lurgy was getting better, only for it to return with renewed vengeance a couple of days ago. Or perhaps a different strain decided to strike while defences were down. Healthy family, we are not. Never known a winter like it, this from a man who claims to have been in France for eight years before succumbing to le rhume. This particular strain seems to be shuttling incessantly backwards and forwards between the three of us, and probably our two little neighbours downstairs.

We blame the latest onset for another interrupted night on Friday. This time it wasn't only the parents and la petite who suffered the consequences - the North Berwick beach lady was paying us a visit over the weekend. She arrived late on Thursday evening, very late, which meant that I was already suffering from a lack of sleep the following evening when la petite got me out of bed at midnight. She was happy enough while I stayed, but completely uninterested in going back to sleep or being left alone. Two hours later maman took over the baton, leaving me to vainly try and get some sleep. Six hours after that la petite enrhumée finally went back to sleep. A very late breakfast ensued.

The rest of the weekend maintained a similarly relaxed rhythm. Early or late breakfast, depending on status as parent or guest; lazy morning with perhaps a short walk to visit the boulangerie, épicerie ou fromagerie; slow afternoon, with perhaps a slightly longer walk along the river or into town; evening at the dinner table or in front of the TV, once la petite was in bed, followed by early night. Other theme of the month: unseasonably cool, damp and windy weather, which was no different over the weekend - another excuse for the lack of activity. Girding her loins for an exciting month ahead below and above water in the South China Seas and South Africa, the shark girl pronounced it just the break she needed. Shame she seems to have taken the dreaded virus home with her.

Out in the wider world, the first round of the election presidentielle resulted in the expected run-off between right and left, Sarkozy and Hollande. Less expected was the strong showing of the fascist right, which could be one of the reasons Sarko made history on Sunday, becoming the first sitting president since the start of the 5th republic to fail to top the first round poll. Where last time round he successfully lured support from the far right, this time round they see him as having betrayed them. Whether that changes over the next 10 days remains to be seen...

Final stretch

Four important weekends in the life of les lyonnais coming up: today in Paris OL play in the League Cup final against that other Olympique team, Marseille. Two weeks later they return to the Stade de France for the French Cup final against Norman minnows Quevilly. Two trophies would somewhat redeem the season for les gones, though no chickens are being counted yet. OM might be in a dreadful run of form, but they are still Marseille. And Quevilly might be in a league two levels lower than Lyon, but they are no mugs, having already beaten Marseille & Rennes and previously reached the semi-finals of the French Cup two years ago. OL beat another Ligue National team, Ajaccio, in a somewhat stormy mid-week semi-final amid a hostile atmosphere on the Île de Beauté, with several bad-tempered confrontations following a red card for one of the Corsicans, and OL striker Gomis allegedly subject to racist chants. A less than comfortable 4-0 win was the end result.

Meanwhile, in the political arena, campaigning for the first round of the presidential election is almost into its final week, with the second round two weeks later. There's little doubt it will be a UMP vs PS final, with polls still showing Sarkozy and Hollande more or less neck and neck in the first round, well ahead of the battle for third place between the far left (Melenchon) and extreme right (Le Pen fille). And Hollande is still apparently just ahead in the final play off. On verra…

Tottering

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

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

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

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

Powerless

The cold weather continues to bite, France's peak power consumption keeps breaking records, and we suffered the perhaps inevitable blackout on Wednesday evening. The lights went out in the middle of the afternoon and didn't come back until late in the evening. Out came the candles, torches and warmer clothes. Gas central heating is all very well if you don't have a boiler that relies on electricity to work. Fortunately, if the blackout had continued, our downstairs neighbours had offered warm shelter, having an old-fashioned boiler. Indeed we sampled their sweltering conditions first hand when we went down for a candlelit chat. No bath for la petite and her parents were in bed by nine thirty. What else is there to do when there's no TV or light to read by…?

The blown transformer which caused the power cut was presumably replaced the next day because we had two more cuts, one of over 2 hours in the middle of the day and another of a minute early in the evening. All lights blazing since then, fingers crossed. The sub-zero temperatures continue, -10C yesterday morning, even if our back window weather station recorded a maximum of 0.5C yesterday afternoon.

I experienced a different feeling of helplessness earlier in the week when my beloved daughter's attempts to escape from the changing table finally succeeded. As she pitched herself headlong off the end and into the bath my loose hold on her clothing slowed her fall enough for a desperate grab with the other hand to succeed in catching a leg. Result: a relatively gentle landing flat on her back with her head cushioned by a collection of rubber bath toys. No harm done other than a slightly grazed thigh and small bruise on one cheek. A lesson learned on both sides, we hope, but then I've said that before…

Another power problem, a sore elbow, eventually lead me to an appointment with a rheumatologist on Thursday. As I assume it's a bit like tennis elbow, I call it baby elbow, though in truth it started before baby came along. More likely computer mouse elbow or something. Anyway, he injected cortisone into the joint and told me to come back if it hadn't improved significantly after two weeks or so. More power to my elbow, fingers on the other hand crossed…

Someone else likely to lose power is Nicolas Sarkozy. He is still conducting what is referred to as a 'teasing' campaign for the presidential election. ie not officially confirming his candidacy, but dropping hints here and there. For instance, an interview in Le Figaro magazine a couple of days ago setting out his 'values' bore all the hallmarks of a personal manifesto. Headline grabber was his proposal to hold a referendum on the right of the unemployed to refuse whatever job or training they are offered. 

The campaign is hotting up with a political storm this week over interior minister Claude Guéant's comment that not all civilisations are equal. The English translation might seem relatively harmless but the subtext and his subsequent comments made it all too clear that he was saying 'Western' civilisation is better than the rest, in particular Islam. Cue an explosion of polemic and a retaliation in parliament by a socialist MP from Martinique who compared Guéant's ideology to those that led to the rise of Nazism. A view which one might sympathise with but succeeded mainly in letting Sarko's right wing rottweiler off the hook by provoking a mass walkout by ruling party MPs, allowing them to bluster about being insulted instead of having to defend the original insult.

Standing alone

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

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

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

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

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

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...

Summer sport

The first weekend in July marks the real arrival of summer: the schools are on holiday, the city starts emptying, and the Tour de France starts. And that means the first major bouchons on the A7 autoroute between Lyon and Marseille, the first time there might be a small chance of finding a parking space outside the apartment, and the first bit of previous-winner-of-the-TdF baiting by the French public and press. This year, with drug allegations hanging over him, it's Contador's turn again. Booed when the teams were introduced on Thursday, and yesterday caught up in a major pileup, which lost him over a minute on his main rivals. Suggestions in the French press this morning that he may even give up…

Anyway, with Wimbledon almost over, le Tour provides me with afternoon entertainment to supplement that provided by the little sweetheart. Who has been a real dear most of the week, despite apparently starting to teethe. At least, she chews on everything and anything at the moment.

In the wider world, l'affaire DSK is once more dominating the headlines. A poll in one of the newspapers this morning suggests half the French public would like to see him making a political comeback. Assuming of course he is cleared of all charges, as most people here are expecting to happen. The fact that he did have sex with the woman is apparently neither here nor there…

At the other end of the political spectrum, the current president was 'violently attacked' in Agen, which was almost overlooked when the new Strauss-Kahn revelations broke. The attack turned out to be a man grabbing him by the lapels and pulling, which provoked the amusing sight of Sarko ducking a blow which never came. He sportingly let it known he wouldn't file a complaint afterwards, but his aggressor still copped a six-month suspended prison sentence.

100 days

A century of days has come and gone in an instant. And ten days of maman back at work have passed quickly and fairly painlessly. Tous les trois are slowly getting used to the new routine, which is hardest for la bienheureuse as she only gets to see her petit coeur for an hour at either end of the day. The pain of separation was eased slightly by an afternoon off last week, and a bank holiday Monday this. The three day weekend came and went in the usual blur, even if the major activity was but the usual afternoon perambulation along the river bank.

In the big wide world, a couple of stories recently distracted from the usual diet of tragedy and disaster. Police in north-eastern France stopped a car they spotted driving erratically last week. Inside they found a lorry driver and his ten year-old son. The former was more than two times over the legal limit. Silly man, you might think, driving with a child in the car while drunk. Not so. He knew he would lose his licence if he was caught, so he hit on the brilliant idea of getting his son to drive him home. Yes, the driver of the vehicle was the 10 year-old boy. His father lost his licence anyway.

Meanwhile, former president Chirac caused a stir over the weekend by declaring that in next year's presidential elections he would vote for François Hollande, one of the potential socialist candidates. Chirac's fellow UMP member and current president Sarkozy deigned not to comment, but is assumed to be unamused. Hollande quickly passed it off as a joke, and Chirac eventually did a day or two later. That won't stop people believing it was a joke with a message. Chirac's autobiography was published a few days ago. His descriptions of the two other men are revealing: political rival Hollande is described as statesmanlike, while political 'friend' Sarko gets cast as overambitious, nervous, rash,  overconfident and doubting nothing, least of all himself. All is fair in love and war...

Thunderclaps

The long hot spring-summer broke briefly at the end of last week. A thunderstorm worthy of mid August lit up the Lyon night sky on Wednesday. Thursday was cool and wet, and the following weekend was a mixture of sunshine and showers. Proper spring weather. The early summer was back on Monday. 27C sunshine today and hotter weather on the way. Reservoir levels are at record lows and there is deep concern about what is looking like the worst drought since 1976.

Meanwhile, a political thunderclap and three letters have dominated headlines in France since Saturday: DSK. The french love an acronym, and the downfall of the head of the IMF has been a gift for headline writers. The main reaction here has been one of shock, not so much by the fact that the frontrunner for the presidential elections next year has been accused of rape, but more so by the way he was treated by the American judicial system. The images of Strauss-Kahn handcuffed and appearing in court, banned in France, have shocked the nation and generated a certain amount of sympathy for the alleged rapist. My own straw poll of opinions in the jewellers I visited yesterday (changing watch batteries, I hasten to add) produced a split result. The jeweller said he'd never sell an American made watch again, his wife thought DSK had it coming, and the client thought it was all a plot. She's not the only one - a newspaper poll this morning suggested over 50% of the French think it's an anti-French conspiracy.

The winners and losers are fairly clear. The Socialists have been left reeling, and the ruling UMP have been rather smugly refraining from any comment that might look like gloating. Polls had DSK a fairly clear winner against Sarko in the elections next year; Sarko against other socialist candidates would be much closer affairs. Meanwhile, Marine le Pen is almost openly rubbing her hands with glee…

Before the news broke on Saturday, French minds were occupied by the road safety changes announced recently. No more road signs warning of speed camera placements; speed camera warning systems made illegal; stiffer penalties for drink driving and excessive speeding. The outrage was almost as widespread as a couple of weeks recently, when parking fines went up from 11 to a whole 19 euros.

On the domestic front, la bienheureuse et la petite survived 30 hours without papa on Sunday/Monday, while he made a final pilgrimage of the season to watch another abject performance. Least said about that the better. The trip was made worthwhile by lunch with le grand chef et la petite beaucoup in the pub before the match, in the company of an old schoolfriend, who is as good as me about keeping in touch - 35 years since we last laid eyes on each other. Funny how little we've changed, and how much we've changed. Grey hair and wrinkles, but still the same old school mate...

Still waiting

The suspense continues. Still no sign of the long awaited arrival, still no trophy with red and white ribbons. Last Friday was due date: another appointment with our now familiar friends the mid-wives at the hospital. Mother's blood tests and pressure: fine; baby's heart and activity: perfect; signs of abdominal contractions: nil. Another appointment arranged for this morning. Quick visit this time, only checks for the mother's BP and baby's heart. All still fine, contractions still conspicuous by their absence. Another checkup in two days.

Yesterday evening another wait continued less happily. Another trip to the pub, another disappointing finish to a final. Sigh…

More waiting in the street outside this afternoon. Filming for a French TV cop series is taking place. Or will take place sometime today. The lorries and technicians turned up in the middle of the afternoon. Three hours later they are all sitting around smoking and waiting. I know how they feel.

In the wider world, the foreign minister known as MAM finally paid for a series of Tunisian indiscretions with her job. Michèle Aliot-Marie 'was resigned', as they say here. Monsieur le Prèsident finally decided the woman who took her holidays in a country in the middle of a popular revolution and accepted free flights from an associate of the soon-to-be toppled dictator had to go, and replaced her with a man who was convicted of misusing public funds seven years ago.

Impatiently waiting

Another Monday, another check-up for expectant mother and baby-to-be. Latter still squirming with energy, former still has slightly high blood pressure, which means yet more checks. Seems the next ten days are all about waiting: waiting in one waiting room or another while waiting for la petite to make an entrance…

Outside the cosy world of the unborn, the weather in Lyon has finally broken. After a month with virtually no rain, most of it with virtually uninterrupted sunshine, today it's raining. We took advantage of the afternoon sun yesterday with a stroll round the crowded park, where the zoo is suffering a run of bad luck. After the theft of four monkeys last week, this week the elephants have been put in quarantine after being diagnosed with TB. All this follows an incident last year when a lioness drowned after falling into the moat round the big cat enclosure, and the sudden death of four zebras a year previously.

Not a good time to be a zoo animal in Lyon, or to be part of that other zoo in French life, politics. Monsieur le Président treated us to another of his marathon TV appearances on Friday evening, spending two and a half hours replying to questions posed by a panel of ordinary French citizens. At least he was supposed to be replying; as far as I could see (though we only lasted ninety minutes before exhaustion got the better of us) he spent most of the time appealing to base emotions and posturing about when he would do for the country, without directly answering anything. Sarko refused to see anything wrong with his prime minister and foreign minister accepting free holidays in Egypt and Tunisia respectively, the latter at the height of the Jasmine revolution, though he has now effectively banned foreign holidays for government ministers. No apology either for the ill-chosen words about a highly publicised murder, which sent almost the entire judiciary on strike in protest last week. Plus ça change…

Empty inside...

A quiet post-skiing week. Le frère and the DenEboy were duly dropped off at the airport on Monday morning; Tuesday we had the final scheduled monthly checkup at the hospital; result: baby in fine form but mother's blood pressure on the high side, meaning weekly monitoring from now until the end; final prenatal session on Thursday; Saturday, belated attempt to mark the passage of eldest niece into adulthood with flowers, champagne and chocolates seems to have been well received. Phew. Events later in the afternoon were not so gratifying. At least the worst comeback in Premiership history was made more palatable by the end of the devils' unbeaten run.

More marking time this morning. Stroll into town in lovely spring-like sunshine to purchase grilled chicken at the market. Final full meal for 30 hours. On the menu for dinner tonight: boiled eggs, bread, laxatives and plenty of liquid. More laxatives at 7am, even more liquid, then to the hospital to have a camera poked up my rear end. Routine check for nasty things in my innards, more in depth than normal due to family history. Interesting night and morning in prospect…

Away from my not-so-anally-retentive personal sphere, events in North Africa have provided a certain amount of political sport in recent days. Main target: the foreign minister, Michèle Alliot-Marie. First, before the fall of the Tunisian regime, she offers France's help to the hated Tunisian police. A political faux-pas. Then, in the middle of the Jasmine Revolution, she goes to Tunisia on holiday and accepts free flights in the private jet of an alleged friend of Ben Ali clan. Not MAM's finest hour.

Meanwhile her boss has been upsetting the entire magistrature and police service in the wake of the gruesome murder of a young woman in north-west France. The murderer was a convicted rapist out on parole and not under full time watch by the probation service. Due to cuts and lack of personnel say the magistrates; due to incompetence says Sarko and promises punishment for the 'culprits'. His usual knee-jerk pandering to what he perceives as public opinion, which is likely to bring the courts to a halt next week…

Mild returns

Negative daytime temperatures and a further couple of centimetres of snow on Friday gave way to seasonal norms two days later - this morning, rain is falling and the thermometer is due to reach double figures. It stayed dry enough for a pair of promenades over the weekend. Saturday we caught the tram up to the Christmas market and walked home through town via a teeming department store, while yesterday we slipped and slid across melting snow in the park to the garden centre in search of a Christmas tree stand. The failure to find anything suitable gave a sum shopping total for the weekend - two picnic lunches, a calendar and a bulb of garlic. Only 19 days left…

Outside the cosy confines of home, the nation mourns the failure of its tennismen to lift the Davis Cup, while general indifference greeted the Wikileaks cables portrayal of Sarkozy as the most thin-skinned, erratic, hyperactive, authoritarian and pro-American French emperor with no clothes since the second world war. No point in getting excited about something we knew already.

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.

Dull autumn routine

A mundane week of mild, drab autumnal weather. Tuesday, chez le medecin to get jabs updated in anticipation of forthcoming period of non-travel. Evening in front of the TV, watching les gones unravel in Lisbon: the players on the pitch, the fans the habitual "Demission!" banner in the stands, despite minor redemption in the form of three goals in the last fifteen minutes. Wednesday similar story in the pub, watching complacent gooners in Donetsk present an old boy with another goal, less well-received this time. Friday morning, sixth month checkup, tout les deux vont bien, apart from lack of sleep for the carrier due to energetic little load.

On the home front, minor bit of bricolage (shelf for home entertainment electronics); on the political front, seasonal affective disorder seems to have put a brake on public & political disorder. The unions are calling off any strikes from Monday and have scheduled a final day of demonstrations in two weeks. Sarko appears to have won the battle, albeit with the help of underhand methods. Allegedly. According to Le Canard Enchaîné, he has ordered the state intelligence services to tap phones of journalists known to be working on stories injurious to the government's health, at least four of whom also happen to have suffered break-ins and computer theft in the last few weeks…

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...