While it was optimistic to expect all coughs and sniffles to have gone within a week, in the case of papa et la petite at least, there seems to be light visible at the end of the tunnel. For la travailleuse however, another cold has added to the persistent cough. Not serious enough to stop her travelling to Helsinki this week though, hopefully the last work trip for several months. Father and daughter just about survived two days and nights without her last week, but only just. Seems 72 hours without mama is the absolute limit for a nearly two year old toddler...
On a brighter note, sunlight reappeared in the apartment last week, the first indoor sighting since early November. Maybe the sombre, unhealthy days of winter really are numbered. Then again, maybe not. A couple of minor snowfalls last week would seem to suggest otherwise anyway, even if the bigger dump forecast over the weekend instead turned to rain. Temperatures are still well below the seasonal average though.
In the wider world, almost half the primary school teachers in Lyon and elsewhere are on strike today, as protest against the reform of the school week proposed for the start of the next academic year. For the last twenty or thirty years, French primary school pupils and teachers have had Wednesdays off. Up until a few years ago, they went to school on Saturday mornings instead, but that was done away with under the last government.
There is general agreement that this led to too intense a school day for the children (French primary school children have 6 hours of lessons a day, the highest in Europe, when psychological studies show they are generally attentive for a maximum of 4.5 hours day). What there is less agreement about is how to redistribute the hours in the school week. The government is proposing Wednesday morning lessons, with a longer lunch break the other days of the week and non-academic activities in the afternoons. Parents and teachers alike aren't too keen of the idea of a change in the routine they've got used to over the last twenty years. The argument continues…
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est strikes. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est strikes. Afficher tous les articles
12 février 2013
31 mars 2012
Creating a stink
Make that three, or even four maladies in the space of less than four weeks. Head cold, followed by eye infection, followed by brief fever and spotty torso for two days, followed by a cough, which has afflicted the whole family. It all adds up to a little girl who is difficult to feed and swings from sweetness and smiles to screaming fit in the space of seconds. Not looking forward to the terrible twos if this is what the ornery ones is like…
She was however, mostly well-behaved for the visit of her aunt earlier in the week. La soeur arrived on Saturday evening to be met at the airport by her belle-soeur and niece while her brother was enjoying a little jaunt across the Channel to witness a stroll in the park against Villa and to enjoy another convivial evening chez la petite beaucoup et le grand gooner chef.
Nice weather in London too, to match the weather in Lyon, where it remained unseasonably warm and sunny for the entirety of the sororal visit. La bienheureuse meanwhile was in the midst of two exhausting weeks of travel to Milan and Monnheim respectively - a total of seven days and four nights away from home, where papa, tante and la petite passed the days playing, promenading in the sunshine and negotiating the obstacle course that the pavements of Lyon became during the two week garbage collectors strike. Large, albeit mostly fairly neat, piles of rubbish collected at various points in the streets, including one directly outside a primary school round the corner. The one outside our building slowly matured in the warm weather but was collected early in the week before the smell drifted as high as the third floor. Not sure how many potential restaurant customers were put off though. The strike eventually crumbled at roughly the same rate as the bin bags and apparently ended yesterday. Judging by the number of rubbish piles still sitting and stewing on the streets round us this morning it will take some time to clear the backlog though…
She was however, mostly well-behaved for the visit of her aunt earlier in the week. La soeur arrived on Saturday evening to be met at the airport by her belle-soeur and niece while her brother was enjoying a little jaunt across the Channel to witness a stroll in the park against Villa and to enjoy another convivial evening chez la petite beaucoup et le grand gooner chef.
Nice weather in London too, to match the weather in Lyon, where it remained unseasonably warm and sunny for the entirety of the sororal visit. La bienheureuse meanwhile was in the midst of two exhausting weeks of travel to Milan and Monnheim respectively - a total of seven days and four nights away from home, where papa, tante and la petite passed the days playing, promenading in the sunshine and negotiating the obstacle course that the pavements of Lyon became during the two week garbage collectors strike. Large, albeit mostly fairly neat, piles of rubbish collected at various points in the streets, including one directly outside a primary school round the corner. The one outside our building slowly matured in the warm weather but was collected early in the week before the smell drifted as high as the third floor. Not sure how many potential restaurant customers were put off though. The strike eventually crumbled at roughly the same rate as the bin bags and apparently ended yesterday. Judging by the number of rubbish piles still sitting and stewing on the streets round us this morning it will take some time to clear the backlog though…
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.
29 février 2012
Spring in the step
Winter seems a little further away now. Blazing sunshine most of this week and temperatures creeping towards 15C. Lovely sunny day last Sunday too, in all respects. Though I have to admit I wasn't looking much on the sunny side of life at 2pm that day, more like staring into the abyss, with the red and white forces of good football two goals down to the local enemy. A mere hour later however, a five gun salvo had sounded and all was (almost) right with the world. Even if the previous ten days had seemed like a nightmare.
It all made for a very pleasant weekend jaunt across the Channel. Flight Sunday morning was on time, quick pint with le grand gooner before the game, albeit in the company of a fifth columnist who remained remarkably restrained all the way through the remarkable match, even when his side's second, illicitly obtained, goal hit the back of the net. Just desserts in the end for the diving lily-white though.
Afterwards I made my way south of the river to visit le petit frère & la cuñada numèro dos. Kitchen now finished, witness a very tasty lamb shank dinner, but much of the rest of the house still a work in progress. Monday morning I trekked back to Stansted and thence home, while the two not-so-newly weds oversaw a fireplace installation before heading off for a holiday in the Indian Ocean. Their home for the following 10 days, an infamous hotel, scene of a recent murder. Ooerr…
Meanwhile, back in Lyon, la petite, la mère et la grand-mère enjoyed an all girls weekend. La belle-mére arrived a week ago and was eventually picked up from the airport by her daughter, after a minor panic in the morning. La vieille voiture failed to survive two months of winter idle in the garage. Or more specifically the battery did - completely flat. Friendly local garage (2 minute walk away) started it for a mere 50 euro call-out charge, charged up the battery and then informed us the starter motor needed replacing too, suspected of being the cause of the prematurely flat battery. Total cost, more than 300 euros. Hmm, the old banger had better pass that controle technique this week…
Someone not suffering in the slightest from ignition problems is the little munchkin. The hesitant few steps have now developed into full-blown, confident walking, which now takes precedence over crawling most of the time. Astonishing how much babies develop in a mere 12 months, but no doubt all new parents say that…
Would that her parents were as full of energy. La bienheureuse survived her first trip involving two whole nights and days away from her darling(s), including most of Sunday, necessary for a brainstorming meeting with government authorities and competitor companies. Fortunately a strike somewhat perversely meant she got home four hours earlier than expected, early enough for bath and bedtime.
Meanwhile the old man exhausted himself in the pursuit of footballing pleasure over the weekend. The seven goal thriller in London on Sunday was preceded by an eight goal nail biter at Gerland on Saturday evening. The oil-rich mercenaries from Paris visited the plucky gones and walked away with the half share of the spoils, after coming back from two goals down in the last 10 minutes, including a last minute of injury time equaliser. Money can almost buy you everything. Still, fifteen goals in total made it an entertaining weekend.
It all made for a very pleasant weekend jaunt across the Channel. Flight Sunday morning was on time, quick pint with le grand gooner before the game, albeit in the company of a fifth columnist who remained remarkably restrained all the way through the remarkable match, even when his side's second, illicitly obtained, goal hit the back of the net. Just desserts in the end for the diving lily-white though.
Afterwards I made my way south of the river to visit le petit frère & la cuñada numèro dos. Kitchen now finished, witness a very tasty lamb shank dinner, but much of the rest of the house still a work in progress. Monday morning I trekked back to Stansted and thence home, while the two not-so-newly weds oversaw a fireplace installation before heading off for a holiday in the Indian Ocean. Their home for the following 10 days, an infamous hotel, scene of a recent murder. Ooerr…
Meanwhile, back in Lyon, la petite, la mère et la grand-mère enjoyed an all girls weekend. La belle-mére arrived a week ago and was eventually picked up from the airport by her daughter, after a minor panic in the morning. La vieille voiture failed to survive two months of winter idle in the garage. Or more specifically the battery did - completely flat. Friendly local garage (2 minute walk away) started it for a mere 50 euro call-out charge, charged up the battery and then informed us the starter motor needed replacing too, suspected of being the cause of the prematurely flat battery. Total cost, more than 300 euros. Hmm, the old banger had better pass that controle technique this week…
Someone not suffering in the slightest from ignition problems is the little munchkin. The hesitant few steps have now developed into full-blown, confident walking, which now takes precedence over crawling most of the time. Astonishing how much babies develop in a mere 12 months, but no doubt all new parents say that…
Would that her parents were as full of energy. La bienheureuse survived her first trip involving two whole nights and days away from her darling(s), including most of Sunday, necessary for a brainstorming meeting with government authorities and competitor companies. Fortunately a strike somewhat perversely meant she got home four hours earlier than expected, early enough for bath and bedtime.
Meanwhile the old man exhausted himself in the pursuit of footballing pleasure over the weekend. The seven goal thriller in London on Sunday was preceded by an eight goal nail biter at Gerland on Saturday evening. The oil-rich mercenaries from Paris visited the plucky gones and walked away with the half share of the spoils, after coming back from two goals down in the last 10 minutes, including a last minute of injury time equaliser. Money can almost buy you everything. Still, fifteen goals in total made it an entertaining weekend.
31 décembre 2011
Climbing high
And so ten days of eating, drinking and chasing baby began. In three short weeks, hesitant crawling had became high speed scampering, on either hands and knees or hands and feet depending on floor surface. Favourite game: sticking something forbidden in the mouth, waiting for maman or papa to say no before gleefully turning round and scampering off, not without a brief pause to see if anyone was giving chase. And in a few days granny's stairs had been clambered up and conquered. First serious tumble probably not too far away…
Meanwhile, the festive break took its normal course, give or take a baby consideration or two. Porridge breakfast and then an internationally flavoured Christmas lunch chez le beau-frère in Wales, with visitors from England, France and the USA and a bit of Lebanese home cooking mixed in with the usual turkey lunch. I wasn't so lucky with strikes on Boxing Day, the London Underground version putting paid to my hopes of a visit to the home of good football. The postponed match was played the following day, clashing with the clan visit, which naturally took precedence. A full house bar two dogs and a sister-in-law was treated to tartiflette and apple crumble before a teenage night out took precedence in turn and cut short the visit of the east Cheshire hordes. The anticipated cascade of presents for granddaughter, niece and little cousin respectively was of moderate proportions, even if la grand-mère kept her promise of not going overboard by presenting a whole box of toys before Christmas day. For use when petite-fille is visiting, therefore not Christmas presents, you understand…
The following day dawned bright but chilly. La soeur, le petit frère, la cuñada & I left three generations of S-ladies behind and ventured to Bickerton Hill for a not-so-brisk walk in the brisk wind. Momentary confusion about the way back to the car was eventually resolved by a GPS-equipped mobile. Technology sometimes has its uses, even if following our noses would probably have got us home too…
Two days before the final one of the year, the last of the visitors left, and la petite famille and la grand-mère made another afternoon visit to a former pub, current Welsh residence of uncle, aunt and two large canine cousins. Today, la bienheureuse et la belle-mère dragged themselves out in the rain for a sales shopping trip to Chester, leaving papa et fille to resume old habits…
Meanwhile, the festive break took its normal course, give or take a baby consideration or two. Porridge breakfast and then an internationally flavoured Christmas lunch chez le beau-frère in Wales, with visitors from England, France and the USA and a bit of Lebanese home cooking mixed in with the usual turkey lunch. I wasn't so lucky with strikes on Boxing Day, the London Underground version putting paid to my hopes of a visit to the home of good football. The postponed match was played the following day, clashing with the clan visit, which naturally took precedence. A full house bar two dogs and a sister-in-law was treated to tartiflette and apple crumble before a teenage night out took precedence in turn and cut short the visit of the east Cheshire hordes. The anticipated cascade of presents for granddaughter, niece and little cousin respectively was of moderate proportions, even if la grand-mère kept her promise of not going overboard by presenting a whole box of toys before Christmas day. For use when petite-fille is visiting, therefore not Christmas presents, you understand…
The following day dawned bright but chilly. La soeur, le petit frère, la cuñada & I left three generations of S-ladies behind and ventured to Bickerton Hill for a not-so-brisk walk in the brisk wind. Momentary confusion about the way back to the car was eventually resolved by a GPS-equipped mobile. Technology sometimes has its uses, even if following our noses would probably have got us home too…
Two days before the final one of the year, the last of the visitors left, and la petite famille and la grand-mère made another afternoon visit to a former pub, current Welsh residence of uncle, aunt and two large canine cousins. Today, la bienheureuse et la belle-mère dragged themselves out in the rain for a sales shopping trip to Chester, leaving papa et fille to resume old habits…
24 décembre 2011
Striking lucky
The weekend before Christmas, four days before we were due to fly to Blighty for a two week holiday, security personnel at some French airports decided to go on strike. For some reason Lyon airport was the worst hit (because or in spite of all the security staff being supplied by Brinks) and two days before our departure, the Stansted flight was cancelled. Big sigh of relief therefore, when the next day all flights were assured, thanks to the airport bringing in staff from "elsewhere" (unspecified). Bigger sigh of relief on Wednesday when the same thing happened, only change being that we were advised to arrive early and that our flight was leaving from the Air France terminal rather than the (newly rebuilt) low-cost terminal. So, we duly turned up at the airport (via tram, a surprisingly smooth journey with baby, pram and assorted luggage) three hours before departure, and joined the long queue to check in - long but fast moving queue, followed by another long but equally fast moving queue at security.
In the end we were through to the departure lounge a full two hours before the flight was due to leave. First time I've ever been through security at an airport and never seen anyone stopped for a hand luggage search. Airport authorities and the government claimed that security of passengers was fully assured. Hmm, not convinced, but not complaining either as it all led to a rather more pleasant journey than normal - Air France personnel at the gate meant the usual strict Easyjet hand baggage policy was ignored; and there was an air bridge to the plane rather than walk in the rain across the tarmac; and no ten minute slog from security to the departure gates as is the case at the new low-cost terminal.
We thus arrived in Cambridge in good spirits early in the evening, reintroduced the new all-crawling, all-climbing bundle of energy to Prof Margarita and Ms Beaucoup, put her to bed and then enjoyed a tasty salmon dinner and wine chez the convivial builder.
The next morning it was onwards and northwards as we left Cambridgeshire and head to Cheshire once more. Four hours later, unscheduled stop to calm screaming baby included, we arrived chez la grand-mère and the build-up to Christmas commenced in fine style with mince pies and roast ham welcoming us.
In the end we were through to the departure lounge a full two hours before the flight was due to leave. First time I've ever been through security at an airport and never seen anyone stopped for a hand luggage search. Airport authorities and the government claimed that security of passengers was fully assured. Hmm, not convinced, but not complaining either as it all led to a rather more pleasant journey than normal - Air France personnel at the gate meant the usual strict Easyjet hand baggage policy was ignored; and there was an air bridge to the plane rather than walk in the rain across the tarmac; and no ten minute slog from security to the departure gates as is the case at the new low-cost terminal.
We thus arrived in Cambridge in good spirits early in the evening, reintroduced the new all-crawling, all-climbing bundle of energy to Prof Margarita and Ms Beaucoup, put her to bed and then enjoyed a tasty salmon dinner and wine chez the convivial builder.
The next morning it was onwards and northwards as we left Cambridgeshire and head to Cheshire once more. Four hours later, unscheduled stop to calm screaming baby included, we arrived chez la grand-mère and the build-up to Christmas commenced in fine style with mince pies and roast ham welcoming us.
06 février 2011
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…
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…
26 octobre 2010
Priceless echoes
A weekend of indulgent gratification. Thursday: la bienheureuse arrives home, pile à l'heure, despite the ongoing transport strikes. Friday: visit chez madame le medecin for second trimester scan; all elements seemingly present and at correct stage of development; estimated weight, a kickingly healthy 530g. Saturday: lazy day spent doing not very much, apart from figuring out, with limited success, how to connect the computer to our new all-singing, all-dancing goggle box, an expensive whim indulged earlier in the week. Sunday: we make a gesture at getting some exercise with a walk through the park, then I leave la bienheureuse in the kitchen (brussel sprouts soup, flapjack and roast pork - spoilt, moi?) while venturing out to the Wallace to suffer the latest instalment of nurtured football team vs purchased assembly of superstars. Fortunately the suffering is eased by an early bath, and the good guys coast to a gratifying triumph over oil-stained money.
Outside the nest, the social unrest continues on a slightly calmer course. Les vacances de la Toussaint began on Friday, meaning school students are somewhat more dispersed; le Senat has approved the new laws on pensions and retirement, meaning only one more stage before the reforms are pencilled into the statute books (expected on Wednesday when both houses of parliament vote on the new laws together). The unions have softened their stance slightly - rubbish collectors in Marseille voted to suspend their two week strike on public health grounds, three of the twelve refineries have gone back to work, and more than 75% of trains are now running. The protestors are hoping the government will agree to negotiate in the last two weeks before the President definitively promulgates the law. The precedent the unions are pinning their hopes on came in 2006, when a new law on employment reforms for young people was approved by parliament only for similar street protests to cause a government cave-in, and the law was never rubber-stamped. I somehow doubt Sarko will be quite as flexible this time…
Outside the nest, the social unrest continues on a slightly calmer course. Les vacances de la Toussaint began on Friday, meaning school students are somewhat more dispersed; le Senat has approved the new laws on pensions and retirement, meaning only one more stage before the reforms are pencilled into the statute books (expected on Wednesday when both houses of parliament vote on the new laws together). The unions have softened their stance slightly - rubbish collectors in Marseille voted to suspend their two week strike on public health grounds, three of the twelve refineries have gone back to work, and more than 75% of trains are now running. The protestors are hoping the government will agree to negotiate in the last two weeks before the President definitively promulgates the law. The precedent the unions are pinning their hopes on came in 2006, when a new law on employment reforms for young people was approved by parliament only for similar street protests to cause a government cave-in, and the law was never rubber-stamped. I somehow doubt Sarko will be quite as flexible this time…
21 octobre 2010
Striking success
So far so good. Football trip to London and Cambridge a resounding success. Flights remained uncancelled and six goals cheered to the rafters by the faithful at the home of good football. Which was slightly unusual, given that the score was 5-1. Never before have I seen an opposition goal greeted with such delight. Eduaarrdo!
I found the Cambridge crew in good form, le grand chef and ms beaucoup providing their usual convivial and generous welcome, and professor margarita and the caipirinha kid providing the customary entertainment in the pub on Monday evening.
And so, on a frosty Wednesday morning, I made my way back to strife-torn Lyon. There was a moment when I feared the worst: after everybody was checked through the departure gate at Stansted we stood going nowhere for over twenty minutes and, when we finally did move, it was to get onto a bus rather than the plane. Uh-oh, I thought, flight abruptly cancelled, Lyon ablaze, back to the terminal we go. But no, it was merely to take us round to another plane at another gate. Even the pilot was in the dark about the reason for the last minute change.
So in the end we arrived home less than half an hour late. At the airport it was my chance to sample, for the second time, the new tram link to the city centre, which has replaced the old shuttle bus at a 50% greater cost. Excuse for the higher ticket price is that it's quicker, which is true - 'guaranteed' less than 30 minutes, as opposed to the 35-40 minute bus trip. For me though, the total travel time is longer, because the tram terminus in Lyon is the other side of Part Dieu station, an extra 10 minute walk, and at the airport it's another 10 minute walk. Grumble, grumble.
Part two of a footballing week yesterday evening, and another surprisingly comfortable victory for the home team, made easier by a sending off for les lisboètes, whose large travelling support was comparable to that of a British club even if a large proportion were French residents. That makes it four wins out of four now, with a trip to the new Ligue 1 whipping boys, Arles-Avignon (1 point from 9 games) coming up. Strangely I didn't hear any "Puel, demisssion!" chants last night.
La bienheureuse was also spared any travel chaos in her business odyssey from Lyon to Brussels and back via Vienna and Paris. So far, at least. Final leg by rail this afternoon. And meanwhile we both missed the worst of the fun in central Lyon on Tuesday - burning cars and rubbish bins, running battles with police, shop windows smashed, water cannons and clouds of tear gas in Place Bellecour. Yesterday there were fewer incidents by dint of the authorities flooding the centre with police (including the elite GIPN, usually used for hostage rescue and the like) and closing down public transport in the Presqu'Île. Similar story today, though latest reports describe Place Bellecour as a 'battlefield'. Fuel shortages all over the country, rubbish piling up in the streets of Marseille, school students leading from the front: the protests show no sign of faltering and still retain the backing of the majority of the public, though with the school holidays starting on Saturday, things may soon start to change…
I found the Cambridge crew in good form, le grand chef and ms beaucoup providing their usual convivial and generous welcome, and professor margarita and the caipirinha kid providing the customary entertainment in the pub on Monday evening.
And so, on a frosty Wednesday morning, I made my way back to strife-torn Lyon. There was a moment when I feared the worst: after everybody was checked through the departure gate at Stansted we stood going nowhere for over twenty minutes and, when we finally did move, it was to get onto a bus rather than the plane. Uh-oh, I thought, flight abruptly cancelled, Lyon ablaze, back to the terminal we go. But no, it was merely to take us round to another plane at another gate. Even the pilot was in the dark about the reason for the last minute change.
So in the end we arrived home less than half an hour late. At the airport it was my chance to sample, for the second time, the new tram link to the city centre, which has replaced the old shuttle bus at a 50% greater cost. Excuse for the higher ticket price is that it's quicker, which is true - 'guaranteed' less than 30 minutes, as opposed to the 35-40 minute bus trip. For me though, the total travel time is longer, because the tram terminus in Lyon is the other side of Part Dieu station, an extra 10 minute walk, and at the airport it's another 10 minute walk. Grumble, grumble.
Part two of a footballing week yesterday evening, and another surprisingly comfortable victory for the home team, made easier by a sending off for les lisboètes, whose large travelling support was comparable to that of a British club even if a large proportion were French residents. That makes it four wins out of four now, with a trip to the new Ligue 1 whipping boys, Arles-Avignon (1 point from 9 games) coming up. Strangely I didn't hear any "Puel, demisssion!" chants last night.
La bienheureuse was also spared any travel chaos in her business odyssey from Lyon to Brussels and back via Vienna and Paris. So far, at least. Final leg by rail this afternoon. And meanwhile we both missed the worst of the fun in central Lyon on Tuesday - burning cars and rubbish bins, running battles with police, shop windows smashed, water cannons and clouds of tear gas in Place Bellecour. Yesterday there were fewer incidents by dint of the authorities flooding the centre with police (including the elite GIPN, usually used for hostage rescue and the like) and closing down public transport in the Presqu'Île. Similar story today, though latest reports describe Place Bellecour as a 'battlefield'. Fuel shortages all over the country, rubbish piling up in the streets of Marseille, school students leading from the front: the protests show no sign of faltering and still retain the backing of the majority of the public, though with the school holidays starting on Saturday, things may soon start to change…
18 octobre 2010
Cold comfort
Another Saturday, another day of protest, another Tuesday, another day of strikes. The protests continue to gather momentum. This time round, they may affect us personally. My latest pilgrimage to the holy ground has been brought forward a day because the flight tomorrow was cancelled. Meanwhile la bienheureuse headed off on her last business trip of the year this morning. The trip from Vienna to Brussels via CDG airport is the unknown quantity. Will the flight tomorrow go, and will the train to Brussels the following morning go? Who knows? Certainly not PM François Fillon who was on TV last night insisting that there would be no petrol shortages because of the 'illegal' blockades of petrol refineries and storage depots all over France. Bet the thousands of motorists queuing at petrol stations only to find them dry believed him.
Meanwhile, lyonnais protesters of a different kind were partially mollified yesterday. A concerted campaign has been going on to try and force the resignation of OL coach Claude Puel, including banners all over town. However, signs of an improvement in performances in the last couple of weeks were confirmed, result-wise at least, by the 3-1 win over Lille at Gerland last night. An entertaining game, even if Lille largely dominated possession and the result somewhat flattered the home team. We treated ourselves to a pre-match dinner in Ninkasi, but the early arrival to ensure a table meant we ended up in the perishing cold stadium almost an hour before kickoff. A biting northerly wind blew down our necks the whole three hours. Whatever happened to autumn? From Indian summer to Lyon winter in one fell swoop.
Meanwhile, lyonnais protesters of a different kind were partially mollified yesterday. A concerted campaign has been going on to try and force the resignation of OL coach Claude Puel, including banners all over town. However, signs of an improvement in performances in the last couple of weeks were confirmed, result-wise at least, by the 3-1 win over Lille at Gerland last night. An entertaining game, even if Lille largely dominated possession and the result somewhat flattered the home team. We treated ourselves to a pre-match dinner in Ninkasi, but the early arrival to ensure a table meant we ended up in the perishing cold stadium almost an hour before kickoff. A biting northerly wind blew down our necks the whole three hours. Whatever happened to autumn? From Indian summer to Lyon winter in one fell swoop.
15 octobre 2010
Echoes of '68
The protests continue and attitudes harden. While the railway workers appear to be gradually returning to work, the stoppages and blockades at petrol refineries and storage depots are causing more concern. Panic buying over the last couple of days have meant fuel stocks in some areas are running low, and the government was sufficiently concerned to send in the gendarmes to lift the blockade of several depots around the country this morning. And while they opened, others closed. Strike and counter-strike.
But it is school students who have been making most of the running and headlines over the last couple of days. Boycotts, blockades and demonstrations in 300+ schools yesterday and today; street confrontations with the police, often exacerbated by the presence of other jeunes, there to fight the police rather than the retirement reforms. I witnessed the fringes of the incidents in central Lyon this morning, on the way back from my weekly chores: twenty or thirty CRS in full battle gear marching down the road along the Rhône in the direction of the Hôtel de Ville, closely followed by half a dozen police vans. Apparently the vans were use to block rue de la République to stop a group of students heading in that direction, which of course led to some predictable stone throwing, bin burning, even one car being overturned, 20 odd arrests. As I crossed the river there were plenty of small groups of lads heading in the opposite direction, like moths to a flame…
But it is school students who have been making most of the running and headlines over the last couple of days. Boycotts, blockades and demonstrations in 300+ schools yesterday and today; street confrontations with the police, often exacerbated by the presence of other jeunes, there to fight the police rather than the retirement reforms. I witnessed the fringes of the incidents in central Lyon this morning, on the way back from my weekly chores: twenty or thirty CRS in full battle gear marching down the road along the Rhône in the direction of the Hôtel de Ville, closely followed by half a dozen police vans. Apparently the vans were use to block rue de la République to stop a group of students heading in that direction, which of course led to some predictable stone throwing, bin burning, even one car being overturned, 20 odd arrests. As I crossed the river there were plenty of small groups of lads heading in the opposite direction, like moths to a flame…
13 octobre 2010
Guillotine motion
Yesterday evening the event that we look forward to with great anticipation every year took place chez nous. Spot two false statements in the previous sentence, the second of which is that it takes place every year. I'm referring to the Assemblée Générale, the annual meeting of apartment owners in our building. Annual in theory - the last one took place nearly two years ago, which is a demonstration of the competence of our syndic, the property management company that is supposed to handle our building. Further proof of incompetence came with initial notice of the meeting lacking several agenda items and specifying a date, time & place (their offices) that suited no-one. Then the corrected agenda had the wrong date, and finally the corrected date specified the general whereabouts (our building) but not exactly which apartment. The latter mystery was resolved the evening before when our upstairs neighbour knocked on the door and asked if we could host it. Cue a two hour frenzy of belated spring cleaning and tidying up yesterday afternoon.
The meeting itself was lively, inconclusive, but productive in the loosest sense of the term. The particular employee charged with dealing with our troublesome building has changed recently, and the new boy was singularly under-prepared and ill-equipped for the haranguing and browbeating he was subjected to for two hours. Apart from approving the accounts of the last two years, which were wrong because an extra 500 euros had some how crept into insurance costs (did I say the syndic was incompetent?) the agenda for the meeting proper was zipped through remarkably quickly and efficiently, mainly by dint of leaving the most contentious issue till last:
Item 10 - changement de syndic: a choice between reappointing the current syndic or choosing one of two alternative management companies; the stick with which the poor chap was whipped into line. He was given one last chance: a month to take action on various contentious issues, or he and his company are out the door. He had no choice but to agree and left looking like a man going to the guillotine. Perhaps he'll spend the next month looking for a new job.
In the world beyond our happy little apartment building, yesterday the demonstrations against the new retirement and pension reforms were the largest yet. Two differences from the previous three journées d'action: the laws against which everybody was protesting are well on their way into the statue book (pushed through parliament over the previous couple of days, just the Senat rubber stamp to go), and some of the strikes have carried on longer than 24 hours. In particular on the railways, in the ports and at petrol refineries. Corsica ran out of diesel last week due to an ongoing blockade of the main port in Marseille, and the region round Nantes is running low on fuel because of a separate strike in the petrol refinery there.
And finally, as the Chilean miners emerge one by one from a hole in the ground, in the Ardèche the rescue of another man trapped underground ended tragically on Monday. The body of the cave diver missing for over a week was found by two British divers when they search the underground river one last time. RIP.
The meeting itself was lively, inconclusive, but productive in the loosest sense of the term. The particular employee charged with dealing with our troublesome building has changed recently, and the new boy was singularly under-prepared and ill-equipped for the haranguing and browbeating he was subjected to for two hours. Apart from approving the accounts of the last two years, which were wrong because an extra 500 euros had some how crept into insurance costs (did I say the syndic was incompetent?) the agenda for the meeting proper was zipped through remarkably quickly and efficiently, mainly by dint of leaving the most contentious issue till last:
Item 10 - changement de syndic: a choice between reappointing the current syndic or choosing one of two alternative management companies; the stick with which the poor chap was whipped into line. He was given one last chance: a month to take action on various contentious issues, or he and his company are out the door. He had no choice but to agree and left looking like a man going to the guillotine. Perhaps he'll spend the next month looking for a new job.
In the world beyond our happy little apartment building, yesterday the demonstrations against the new retirement and pension reforms were the largest yet. Two differences from the previous three journées d'action: the laws against which everybody was protesting are well on their way into the statue book (pushed through parliament over the previous couple of days, just the Senat rubber stamp to go), and some of the strikes have carried on longer than 24 hours. In particular on the railways, in the ports and at petrol refineries. Corsica ran out of diesel last week due to an ongoing blockade of the main port in Marseille, and the region round Nantes is running low on fuel because of a separate strike in the petrol refinery there.
And finally, as the Chilean miners emerge one by one from a hole in the ground, in the Ardèche the rescue of another man trapped underground ended tragically on Monday. The body of the cave diver missing for over a week was found by two British divers when they search the underground river one last time. RIP.
04 octobre 2010
Post-holiday blues
It's been a fairly gentle descent from holiday highs to the mundanities of everyday life. La bienheureuse had a further couple of days off at home before coming back down to earth and work with a bump (annual budget to finalise by the end of the week) while I twiddled and fiddled, spending much longer than necessary sorting through thousands of holiday photos. Lyon was in the grip of autumnal weather last week, which suddenly turned into an all-too-brief Indian summer over the weekend. Bright sunshine and temperatures in the mid-twenties meant the shorts were given a reprieve.
Not that we did a lot to take advantage of the lovely weather, apart from a stroll around town and a drink on the banks of the Saône on Saturday afternoon. The sky was blue enough to tempt me up to Fourvière, where it was one of those rare days when Mont Blanc was visible 160km distant. Also visible was the demonstration in Place Bellecour, the climax of the 3rd day of action against the pension reforms in France. Not sure why it was fixed for a Saturday - perhaps less disruption by the strikes was balanced by higher turnout on the marches.
Sunday was rather less noteworthy. It was even warmer but the only sortie of the day was to the Wallace for another bad case of déjà-vu, watching the blue brutes mug the red and white heroes to steal an undeserved victory. Sigh. And today it's pouring with rain.
Sunday was rather less noteworthy. It was even warmer but the only sortie of the day was to the Wallace for another bad case of déjà-vu, watching the blue brutes mug the red and white heroes to steal an undeserved victory. Sigh. And today it's pouring with rain.
09 septembre 2010
Striking lucky
Tobago bound or strike bound? That was the burning question the evening before our scheduled departure for the forthcoming nuptials of frater minimus in the sunny Caribbean sea. La grande journée d'action on Tuesday included promise of disruptions by air traffic controllers. After much agonising over alternative travel between Lyon and Gatwick, in the end we decided to grit our teeth and cross our fingers that our flight would go. Tuesday morning, it was still shown as scheduled, so off to the airport by taxi we went, leaving rainy Lyon behind. Check-in and security successfully negotiated, we settled down to wait. And wait. But at last we were on the aircraft and raised a small cheer as what turned out to be the sole flight of three to make it from Lyon to London left the ground. Only an hour late, too.
At Gatwick, we eventually made rendezvous with le grand frère in the hotel, had dinner, briefly met the groom and la soeur to take delivery of vital wedding supplies: a champagne bottle each to be transported to Tobago. The following morning we were up at the crack of dawn to catch the shuttle bus to the airport, where we met up with la soeur and the future belle-soeur of the groom, checked in successfully despite the strict 5kg limit on hand baggage, and finally ate breakfast in departures. The flight was called before the last cup of coffee was gulped, and an hour later we were at last Tobago bound.
It was a long flight: eleven hours of cramped discomfort. Having survived the first seven hours on Monarch rations (small muffin, piece of melon and three grapes) before a more substantial meal was finally served a couple of hours before the brief stopover in Grenada, we touched down at Crown Point International airport. Long queue for passport control, even longer queue for customs. Fortunately our luggage appeared the carousel before the latter had lengthened too far. Our party of five was too large for the single hire car, so la soeur and la belle-soeur nominative took a taxi and had thus taken possession of our home for the week by the time we picked up the car and found our way to Stonehaven bay.
And a very nice home it was too. A mock-colonial villa fifty yards from the beach, up a hill giving stunning views of the sea. Well, it would have done if there hadn't been another rather large villa blocking some of the panorama. We settled in, took a dip in the plunge pool, then watched the sun go down and ate a picnic dinner on the terrace, before collapsing into bed.
At Gatwick, we eventually made rendezvous with le grand frère in the hotel, had dinner, briefly met the groom and la soeur to take delivery of vital wedding supplies: a champagne bottle each to be transported to Tobago. The following morning we were up at the crack of dawn to catch the shuttle bus to the airport, where we met up with la soeur and the future belle-soeur of the groom, checked in successfully despite the strict 5kg limit on hand baggage, and finally ate breakfast in departures. The flight was called before the last cup of coffee was gulped, and an hour later we were at last Tobago bound.
It was a long flight: eleven hours of cramped discomfort. Having survived the first seven hours on Monarch rations (small muffin, piece of melon and three grapes) before a more substantial meal was finally served a couple of hours before the brief stopover in Grenada, we touched down at Crown Point International airport. Long queue for passport control, even longer queue for customs. Fortunately our luggage appeared the carousel before the latter had lengthened too far. Our party of five was too large for the single hire car, so la soeur and la belle-soeur nominative took a taxi and had thus taken possession of our home for the week by the time we picked up the car and found our way to Stonehaven bay.
And a very nice home it was too. A mock-colonial villa fifty yards from the beach, up a hill giving stunning views of the sea. Well, it would have done if there hadn't been another rather large villa blocking some of the panorama. We settled in, took a dip in the plunge pool, then watched the sun go down and ate a picnic dinner on the terrace, before collapsing into bed.
06 septembre 2010
Nail biter
And so, the brave new blue dawn on Friday was obscured by dark clouds of disappointment. The new era of Les Bleus under Laurent Blanc stuttered to a home defeat against lowly Belarus. Tomorrow evening, they must pick themselves up and win on hostile territory against Bosnia, arguably the strongest team in the group. No easy task when all three strikers used on Friday are now injured…
We are also biting our nails about travel problems tomorrow. The national journée de mobilisation against pension and retirement reforms is likely to include some action by air traffic controllers. Learning this on the evening news last night threw us into a bit of a panic, given that a Caribbean holiday is in the balance if we don't make it to Gatwick by Tuesday evening. Two options presented themselves:
a) hope our flight is unaffected, turn up at the airport tomorrow morning, with a long drive and ferry from Dover as an emergency backup plan if the flight is cancelled.
b) rebook our flight for the evening flight today.
Both choices risk costing in excess of 300 euros, and occasioned much internet searching, much anxious cussing and ranting, and a hasty bit of early packing. In the end I gave in to common sense and took la bienheureuse's advice: on calling Easyjet (no easy task as they do their level best to hide the call centre number on their web site - cue more cussing and ranting), I was told that flights from Lyon would be unaffected and that the Gatwick flight was certain to go. Hoorah. Revert to plan A. The Easyjet web site this morning appears to confirm that the Gatwick flight is going, though three other flights outbound from Lyon are cancelled tomorrow. All fingers tightly crossed…
The weekend otherwise was very pleasant. Warm sunshine induced us out to lunch on Sunday, pizza and salad at La Pie riverside restaurant, followed by a stroll up river to La Cité Internationale to watch the special version of the most successful film of all time, la bienheureuse being the one person in the whole of France not to have seen the original.
We are also biting our nails about travel problems tomorrow. The national journée de mobilisation against pension and retirement reforms is likely to include some action by air traffic controllers. Learning this on the evening news last night threw us into a bit of a panic, given that a Caribbean holiday is in the balance if we don't make it to Gatwick by Tuesday evening. Two options presented themselves:
a) hope our flight is unaffected, turn up at the airport tomorrow morning, with a long drive and ferry from Dover as an emergency backup plan if the flight is cancelled.
b) rebook our flight for the evening flight today.
Both choices risk costing in excess of 300 euros, and occasioned much internet searching, much anxious cussing and ranting, and a hasty bit of early packing. In the end I gave in to common sense and took la bienheureuse's advice: on calling Easyjet (no easy task as they do their level best to hide the call centre number on their web site - cue more cussing and ranting), I was told that flights from Lyon would be unaffected and that the Gatwick flight was certain to go. Hoorah. Revert to plan A. The Easyjet web site this morning appears to confirm that the Gatwick flight is going, though three other flights outbound from Lyon are cancelled tomorrow. All fingers tightly crossed…
The weekend otherwise was very pleasant. Warm sunshine induced us out to lunch on Sunday, pizza and salad at La Pie riverside restaurant, followed by a stroll up river to La Cité Internationale to watch the special version of the most successful film of all time, la bienheureuse being the one person in the whole of France not to have seen the original.
03 septembre 2010
Custard pie
The maire de Lyon, Gérard Collomb, was pied yesterday. A nebulous group calling itself "Al Qaïtarte" (presumably a play on words linking tarte and a certain notorious terrorist group) claimed responsibility and condemned the "policies more than right-wing of a man who claims to be left-wing." The entarteurs also count the president of the Rhône-Alpes region and the artist Ben among their victims, claim the "greatest pieing ever in Lyon", that of the MoDem mayoral candidate, but regret failing several times to entarte the former minster and UMP mayoral candidate Dominic Perben. Ho hum. I suppose it's more fun than attending a city council meeting.
On the wider political stage the government is still struggling against the adverse headlines created by the new "security policy", with several government ministers breaking ranks to admit to unease about the expulsion of Roma and the proposed stripping of citizenship. And waves continue to be made by the Bettencourt affair. Sarko and Fillon are still backing Eric Woerth after he was forced to admit that he had indeed written a letter recommending Patrice de Maistre for a Legion d'Honneur. He claims that ministers and MPs routinely put forward people for honours, which may be true, but not all of them would dare to recommend the man they've persuaded to give their wife a highly paid job…
Interestingly, there's a view that the government are happy to take the flak about the security policy, safe in the knowledge that it's deflecting attention from other problems and that the majority of the French population support the Roma pogrom. One problem comes up on Tuesday, when a journée d'action to protest against retirement reforms has been called by some of the main unions. The union hand is strengthened by the fact that it's a distracted Minister of Labour, one Eric Woerth, who is handling the reform bill in parliament. The main strikes are likely to be on the railways, so perhaps I shouldn't be too nervous about the fact that we're flying to the UK that day…
On the wider political stage the government is still struggling against the adverse headlines created by the new "security policy", with several government ministers breaking ranks to admit to unease about the expulsion of Roma and the proposed stripping of citizenship. And waves continue to be made by the Bettencourt affair. Sarko and Fillon are still backing Eric Woerth after he was forced to admit that he had indeed written a letter recommending Patrice de Maistre for a Legion d'Honneur. He claims that ministers and MPs routinely put forward people for honours, which may be true, but not all of them would dare to recommend the man they've persuaded to give their wife a highly paid job…
Interestingly, there's a view that the government are happy to take the flak about the security policy, safe in the knowledge that it's deflecting attention from other problems and that the majority of the French population support the Roma pogrom. One problem comes up on Tuesday, when a journée d'action to protest against retirement reforms has been called by some of the main unions. The union hand is strengthened by the fact that it's a distracted Minister of Labour, one Eric Woerth, who is handling the reform bill in parliament. The main strikes are likely to be on the railways, so perhaps I shouldn't be too nervous about the fact that we're flying to the UK that day…
20 avril 2010
Ash blue
Blue skies, lovely weekend, weather wise. A Saturday saunter out for lunch at a riverside café and a walk through the park to purchase floral decoration for the windows. Geraniums duly potted and installed outside the front windows. Lovely.
Sunday, skies still blue, saunter out to the pub, stomp home in a blue funk. Never in the history of personal Goonerdom have I been so p*ssed off by an Arsenal performance. Attempted to walk off the anger by climbing the steps from Passage Gonin and taking a meandering route home through the Croix Rousse. Only really successful following lovely meal cooked by la bienheureuse, a stiff gin-tonique and a couple of glasses of wine.
Meanwhile, the infamous ash cloud and train strikes have thrown la bienheureuse's business travel plans this week into disarray. A flight to Allemagne on Monday morning was predictably canceled, but a train ticket to Bruxelles from Lyon for the second leg of the trip was successfully booked yesterday to replace the original one from Köln. However, this morning she learned that the train this evening has been canceled due to a rail strike in France that is now almost into its third week. Most of the regional union committees have voted to resume work, but not the one in the south east, which includes Lyon. Ho hum, there was me feeling smug because for once I decided to go by train to London for Saturday's late afternoon game. Ever the sucker for punishment. Still, at least it means ma bien-aimée spends the whole week in Lyon.
Sunday, skies still blue, saunter out to the pub, stomp home in a blue funk. Never in the history of personal Goonerdom have I been so p*ssed off by an Arsenal performance. Attempted to walk off the anger by climbing the steps from Passage Gonin and taking a meandering route home through the Croix Rousse. Only really successful following lovely meal cooked by la bienheureuse, a stiff gin-tonique and a couple of glasses of wine.
Meanwhile, the infamous ash cloud and train strikes have thrown la bienheureuse's business travel plans this week into disarray. A flight to Allemagne on Monday morning was predictably canceled, but a train ticket to Bruxelles from Lyon for the second leg of the trip was successfully booked yesterday to replace the original one from Köln. However, this morning she learned that the train this evening has been canceled due to a rail strike in France that is now almost into its third week. Most of the regional union committees have voted to resume work, but not the one in the south east, which includes Lyon. Ho hum, there was me feeling smug because for once I decided to go by train to London for Saturday's late afternoon game. Ever the sucker for punishment. Still, at least it means ma bien-aimée spends the whole week in Lyon.
16 avril 2010
Ash Thursday
Busy, stressful week for la bienheureuse, less busy, distressing week for me. La salariée was organising a meeting in Lyon Tuesday and Wednesday, flew off to Germany Wednesday evening for another meeting, then spent yesterday evening fleeing the ash. Her original flight direct from Düsseldorf to Lyon was canceled, probably because Air France decided not sending the outbound plane was a better option than risking it being stuck in Germany. Options for la bienheureuse and colleagues then were getting a train (risky because of an ongoing rail strike in France), driving (an 8 hour trip), or waiting to see whether the on/off flights to Paris would eventually go. Luck was on their side, because two Paris flights eventually went shortly before German airspace closed, and they got on the last flight from Paris to Lyon before CDG airport closed. In the end, she was home only 3 hours late.
As for me, I spent a dispiriting Wednesday evening in the pub, watching the red and white heros' luck and remaining season burn to ash. Roll on August...
As for me, I spent a dispiriting Wednesday evening in the pub, watching the red and white heros' luck and remaining season burn to ash. Roll on August...
19 février 2010
Black motoring days
This weekend marks the mid-point of the French winter school holidays, and that means tomorrow is one of the busiest days of the year on the roads as one third of the country goes back to school, another third goes on holiday, and the final third are in the middle of their two weeks off. Fittingly, as hordes of holiday makers head onto and off the slopes, in the region around the Alps Saturday is classed as black in a similar fashion to the way ski pistes are classified - green for no problem, black for scary...
It's not been a good week to be a motorist in general. Yesterday the government announced more measures to improve road safety - principally more cameras, which will be harder to spot than current models, and the introduction of average speed cameras in key places like tunnels. Since automatic speed cameras were introduced in France seven years ago, the number of deaths on French roads has dropped by more than 40%, though last year an average of 12 people per day still died. The aim of the new measures is to reduce annual road deaths to below 3000 by 2012.
Another bit of news yesterday that is likely to cause grief for motorists in France, was the threat to go on indefinite strike by petrol refinery workers, in support of the strike at six Total refineries, including the one just south of Lyon, and over worries about the future of the industry in France. There are apparently just 10 to 20 days worth of petrol stocked in France...
It's not been a good week to be a motorist in general. Yesterday the government announced more measures to improve road safety - principally more cameras, which will be harder to spot than current models, and the introduction of average speed cameras in key places like tunnels. Since automatic speed cameras were introduced in France seven years ago, the number of deaths on French roads has dropped by more than 40%, though last year an average of 12 people per day still died. The aim of the new measures is to reduce annual road deaths to below 3000 by 2012.
Another bit of news yesterday that is likely to cause grief for motorists in France, was the threat to go on indefinite strike by petrol refinery workers, in support of the strike at six Total refineries, including the one just south of Lyon, and over worries about the future of the industry in France. There are apparently just 10 to 20 days worth of petrol stocked in France...
11 décembre 2009
Striking times
The lights went down on Tuesday, and Wednesday evening it was back to the weekly routine with a trip to Gerland to watch the final Champions League group game. OL duly did a routine job, 4-0 winners without ever having to play well against one of only two teams to finish the competition with nul points.
Two less than routine things happened on the way home. We bumped into two of our neighbours in the metro queue, the fact that there was a long queue being the second unaccustomed event. Normally we leave on the final whistle and our seats at the metro end of the ground allow us to beat the queues. Not on this occasion. There were plenty of early leavers with the fans more interested in what was going on at Anfield, where the Scousers duly failed to live up to expectations and allowed Fiorentina to finish as group winners. That means OL will draw either an English or Spanish team in the first knockout round. Few in France expect them to go further...
The metro also seemed to be running slower than usual, symptomatic of the last week or so. There was a strike over the weekend, timed to coincide with the Fête des Lumières, though it didn't have a huge effect. Then yesterday, the automatic metro line that la bienheureuse often takes into work was out of action all morning, leaving the buses overcrowded. Ma bien-aimée was forced to walk...
Strikes elsewhere in France are in the headlines at the moment. A train strike is upsetting Parisian commuters, and lorry drivers are threatening to strike in the run-up to Christmas. A measure of how serious this would be is that the employers appear to have quickly made concessions...
However, what's really preoccupying greater France at the moment is the news of Johnny Hallyday's emergency operation in California, after complications following an operation on a herniated vertebral disc in Paris a couple of weeks ago. Johnny's agent announced today that the American surgeons had told him they'd had to repair the damage done by the original operation, which they called a 'massacre'. There is talk of suing the well-known French 'surgeon to the stars' who carried out the operation in Paris. Apparently won't be the first time he has had to pay damages to a patient...
Two less than routine things happened on the way home. We bumped into two of our neighbours in the metro queue, the fact that there was a long queue being the second unaccustomed event. Normally we leave on the final whistle and our seats at the metro end of the ground allow us to beat the queues. Not on this occasion. There were plenty of early leavers with the fans more interested in what was going on at Anfield, where the Scousers duly failed to live up to expectations and allowed Fiorentina to finish as group winners. That means OL will draw either an English or Spanish team in the first knockout round. Few in France expect them to go further...
The metro also seemed to be running slower than usual, symptomatic of the last week or so. There was a strike over the weekend, timed to coincide with the Fête des Lumières, though it didn't have a huge effect. Then yesterday, the automatic metro line that la bienheureuse often takes into work was out of action all morning, leaving the buses overcrowded. Ma bien-aimée was forced to walk...
Strikes elsewhere in France are in the headlines at the moment. A train strike is upsetting Parisian commuters, and lorry drivers are threatening to strike in the run-up to Christmas. A measure of how serious this would be is that the employers appear to have quickly made concessions...
However, what's really preoccupying greater France at the moment is the news of Johnny Hallyday's emergency operation in California, after complications following an operation on a herniated vertebral disc in Paris a couple of weeks ago. Johnny's agent announced today that the American surgeons had told him they'd had to repair the damage done by the original operation, which they called a 'massacre'. There is talk of suing the well-known French 'surgeon to the stars' who carried out the operation in Paris. Apparently won't be the first time he has had to pay damages to a patient...
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