Damp squibs

Unlike in England the previous weekend, the football championship in France was rather gratifying won on Sunday by minnows Montpellier, who finished three points clear of the Qatari-funded Parisians. PSG won their final game at Lorient but then had to wait half an hour for Montpellier's match at already-relegated Auxerre to finish, after irate Auxerre fans twice interrupted the match with a barrage of smoke bombs, toilet rolls and tennis balls being thrown onto the pitch. Undeterred, the relatively impoverished men from the Herault held their nerve to win 2-1 despite going behind early in the match. In French football at least, money isn't yet everything...

Meanwhile I was at Gerland in the pouring rain, being kept up to date with events elsewhere by a neighbour with a smart phone, to watch Lyon's final game end in an entertaining 4-3 defeat to Nice. Strange match, perhaps not surprisingly given that OL already knew they could finish no higher and no lower than fourth, and that Nice needed three points to be sure of avoiding relegation. It rather neatly summed up a mixed season - lowest league place for 11 years but a trophy, the French Cup. Nice hit the woodwork three times in the first twenty minutes, only to find OL making the most of their chances and going 2-0 up. An inexperienced central defence then allowed the visitors to equalise and then take the lead in the second half with a rare Lloris error. Stung into action, les gones equalised and threatened the winner only to allow the Nice centre-forward to run through all the way from his own half and score.

Back on the home front, we enjoyed a quiet first weekend in three en famille, even if the weather was mixed in the extreme. Pleasant sunshine early on Saturday afternoon enticed la bienheureuse et la petite out for a shopping trip. New stock of toys duly purchased they made for home at the same time as the heavens opened, throwing down rain, lightning and hail. Rather large hailstones at that, but rather surprisingly a flimsy umbrella protected both mes bien-aimées.

A similar story on Sunday. Warm sunshine in the morning dragged us out to the market before the rain started coming down early in the afternoon. That didn't stop la petite coquinette from fetching shoes, her way of demanding to be taken out, and her mother duly obliged. No stay-at-home girl that little one. And the rain has barely stopped since. Summer is still dragging its heels...

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.

Travails and travel trouble

Pleasant weekend, all the more so with the current spell of lovely weather continuing. Saturday, in the best tradition, was football day. Two games, two laboured victories, but never complain about a win. First, to the pub to watch les hommes d'Arsène Wenger uncharacteristically dig out a satisfying 1-0 result thanks to a man of the match display by the 3rd choice keeper. As soon as the final whistle went, we headed off to Gerland, a journey which would normally have taken less than half an hour and got us there just before kickoff. However we neglected to take account of the ongoing public transport strike, which I'd erroneously thought wasn't continuous. The automatic metro line was running, but it only got us half way there. Fortunately there were replacement shuttle buses running. Though only to one stop short of the ground, so after a brisk 400m walk, we ended up missing about 10 minutes of the game. And the opening goal, for the opposition.

Toulouse were playing well and OL continued to struggle for the rest of the first half, but a half time change of tactics and an 18 year-old substitute livened things up. The young striker scored a lovely equaliser and Lyon eventually scored a scrappy winner a few minutes from time. Another quick exit as soon as the final whistle went, another brisk walk back to where the shuttle buses departed, and who should we bump into on the bus but a former colleague of la bienheureuse who left Lyon 3 years ago. Funnily enough we bumped into him in the pub a year or two ago, again without being aware he was visiting Lyon. Quelle coincidence. Or maybe not, when you consider he's as much of a football fanatic as me (even if he supports the dark side).

A more gentle day Sunday. Stroll along the river and through the park, amble round the garden centre looking for more indoor greenery, then a tough trudge back home bearing large plant and self-watering pot. Rather warm work for a late September sunday. Today, the good weather continues and so does the strike...

The roofbox and the car park

A very mild and sunny weekend in Lyon, though we neglected to take advantage of the weather, due in part to la bienheureuse suffering from a rather bad cold, which I suspect almost qualifies as la grippe. She has however managed to struggle in to work today and is still intending to fly off to l'allemagne this evening for 3 days. Feels obliged to do so, given that she is organising the meeting.

Our one burst of activity was on Saturday morning, when we decided to get up early and take the car to the nearby shopping centre to effect the purchase of a rowing machine/bike trainer (belated attempt to regain a bit of fitness for the skiing & shed a bit of excess poids). Duly reached the multi-storey car park with our other recent purchase still attached to the roof.

Big mistake - height limit was 1.80m, and the barrier refused us entry despite the fact that I estimate the height of car & box to be 1.79m. And of course, by the time we'd realised this and had a short discussion via intercom with the attendant there was a lengthy queue of cars behind us and no way to back out...

Fortunately, there was a small inlet just in front of the barriers, which we could back into and allow space for other cars to squeeze past. Only solution - remove the roof box, put it into the back of the car (easier said than done given that it is almost the same length as the car interior, but by winding the passenger seat all the way forward we just managed it), drive through the car park because there was now no room in car for roofbox and new purchase, drive home, dump the box in the garage, & drive back again. We finally bought our new toy & got home two hours after setting out. Would have been quicker to wheel it home on foot...

A mouse in the house

Our uninvited guest is back. Spotted on Saturday evening, chased under the refridgerator. Closer investigation of said fridge suggested he was living in amongst the motor, or at least doing his business there. 'Nuff said except to add that there was no other sighting of the little pest himself. Mission for today - buy a mousetrap.

Our mission over the weekend was to buy a roofbox. The annual Meribel ski week is at the end of the month and we are expecting 3 guests the preceding and following weekends, who in turn are expecting transport from Lyon to the Alps. 5 adults, at least 3 pairs of skis, 4 pairs of boots, and assorted other luggage into one petite voiture does not go. Hence decision to invest in a roof box. Easier said than done.

15 minutes to choose and buy suitable box and roof bars. 60 minutes to figure out assembly instructions, borrow a screwdriver and mount bars on car. Another 15 minutes to decide that one of the bolts to affix bars to roof didn't fit in allocated hole, and a further 15 minutes to obtain help from shop and attached workshop. Still, it all arrived home still attached to the roof in one piece, so we assume plain sailing from hereon in. Though hopefully not literally sailing, given that it looks a bit like a sail attached to a car...

Sunday we sampled the delights of the newly smoke free eating and watering holes in France, and went to the pub to watch the mighty Gunners reserves eventually overcome plucky Burnley in the FA Cup. The place was unusually empty, whether due to the smoking ban or the popularity of said match, I couldn't possibly say...