The spring that never was - the sun at last comes out, temperatures at last climb into the twenties and, somehow, all seems a little more right with the world. After throwing the mother of all paddies over papa denying her the right to perform gymnastics with a pair of nail scissors in her hand, la petite coquinette has been (almost) a model of good behaviour since. Of course part of that may be due to the fact that we had visitors last week.
The good Doctors C and the two now-not-so-mini Jezoids arrived on Monday on the early morning flight from Gatwick for a 5 day Lyon city break. They thus arrived chez nous in time for lunch before heading off to their hotel, allowing la petite a chance to nap and recover from the excitement of having two young lads to keep her amused. A short walk round the zoo convinced the visiting parents that an early night was necessary for them all to recover from the early start. And with la petite at crèche the following day, it was early evening before she renewed acquaintance with the two Jezlas.
In the meantime the tourists braved Lyon in the morning rain to visit the Roman amphitheatre before the weather improved enough in the afternoon for a play in the park. Dinner for seven back at ours followed, and it was thus well after nine by the time peace descended on the apartment once more and la petite was at last asleep having overcome a doudou lost in bed crisis. Her new, big bed that is. Another small rung on the ladder of toddler development was otherwise successfully climbed without drama (so far) last weekend, when a trip to Ikea to purchase a rug finally led to a rearrangement of la petite chambre and a move from cot to bed.
A group outing was on the agenda for Wednesday, with a trip to the park and lunch in the sunshine in one of the buvettes. La petite famille then headed home to allow a nap for la petite and la bienheureuse to beat the 2pm deadline. Our visitors stayed to enjoy more time in the park playgrounds and a boating trip on the lake before joining us for dinner once more.
Thursday was crèche day for la petite and meanwhile her parents were treated to lunch by the good Drs C. The expectant mother then headed home in time for two to await the visit that, of course, never came, while papa accompanied the Lyon tourists on a mini-tour of the old town. Up via funicular to Fourvière basilica, where a whinging cease-fire deal was reached between father and sons to allow a short visit inside the religious edifice, before we trudged down the hill for a look around la Musée Miniature et Cinéma. The young visitors were more interested in the original cinema props than the models that originally made the museum's name, but we still spent nearly two hours wandering through the exhibits. It was thus five rather foot-sore tourists who trudged back across two rivers for a final diner en (deux) familles.
The travellers were back in time for Friday lunch, before heading off to the airport to catch their flight home. They were thus privileged to witness the partial beginnings of another breakthrough in la petite coquinette's growth. Having resisted for some time virtually all attempts at potty-training, on Friday morning, as she wandered toute nue through the apartment (prior to our guests arriving I hasten to add), she suddenly decided it was time for a first proper pipi in the potty. And several more since. The process remains a bit hit and miss, since she still refuses to wear normal panties and once a nappy is on, well… a nappy is designed to be peed in, isn't it…? Mais bon, ça commence enfin…
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est visitors. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est visitors. Afficher tous les articles
14 avril 2013
28 mars 2013
Déjà vu
It sounded strangely familiar. A call, days before she was due to visit, from la soeur, warning that she might not make it, due to a missing passport this time rather than a merely out of date one. Fortunately all was well following a couple of expensive hasty dashes to the Liverpool passport office, despite some less than precise parental birth and marriage details. The fates hadn't finished toying with travel plans yet though. A forecast of heavy early morning snow in the frozen wastes of northern England forced a drive south late in the evening before her flight. But it was all worth it as she arrived on time in Lyon in 18 degree sunshine.
That was an isolated day of good weather though. Spring steadfastly refuses to arrive. There was however enough watery sunshine to allow the odd outing or two, including a trip to the park and ride on le petit train again. Not that much extra amusement needed to be provided, as aunt and niece generally found enough entertainment in each other's company. Not sure what la tante thought of the entertainment on offer one afternoon though, when it was a small bear cub with a sore head that woke up from her afternoon crèche rather than a happy, smiling toddler…
The day la petite was at the crèche, papa took his little sister for a first look at the new shopping complex at the Confluence. The year-old development has been criticised for being out of the way and poorly served by public transport, and veers between being very busy on Saturdays and during school holidays to empty during the week. It was indeed virtually deserted on a cold and breezy spring Tuesday, but getting there was easy enough on the tram, and we took the river shuttle back into the town centre, which was a pleasant way to travel. The top floor of the centre is also devoted to restaurants, with wooden decking and terraces, which I imagine would be very pleasant in the summer.
That was an isolated day of good weather though. Spring steadfastly refuses to arrive. There was however enough watery sunshine to allow the odd outing or two, including a trip to the park and ride on le petit train again. Not that much extra amusement needed to be provided, as aunt and niece generally found enough entertainment in each other's company. Not sure what la tante thought of the entertainment on offer one afternoon though, when it was a small bear cub with a sore head that woke up from her afternoon crèche rather than a happy, smiling toddler…
The day la petite was at the crèche, papa took his little sister for a first look at the new shopping complex at the Confluence. The year-old development has been criticised for being out of the way and poorly served by public transport, and veers between being very busy on Saturdays and during school holidays to empty during the week. It was indeed virtually deserted on a cold and breezy spring Tuesday, but getting there was easy enough on the tram, and we took the river shuttle back into the town centre, which was a pleasant way to travel. The top floor of the centre is also devoted to restaurants, with wooden decking and terraces, which I imagine would be very pleasant in the summer.
14 mars 2013
Tempered spring
Spring is in the air, but hasn't quite arrived yet. Temperatures climbed to 18C the day la petite reached two years as if in celebration, but a week later they have plunged back down to barely above freezing. Brr, but at least the sun has been more in evidence over the last fortnight.
There was a double celebration for the second birthday. First with les petits copains at the crèche, and then back home with immediate family. Two cakes, two lots of candles successfully blown out and, err, a number of presents. Over-excitement was the order of the evening, but she eventually went to sleep.
The terrible twos seemingly started several weeks early. Tantrums are beginning to rear their ugly head, usually with no obvious cause. The first public one came and went with bewildering speed last weekend when we all went swimming. It was la petite coquinette herself who decided it was time to get out of the pool and go home, so all the more disconcerting that getting her dried and changed provoked a screaming fit. Hope we don't have to get too used to it…
Today, another minor tantrum after breakfast, followed by some sulking under the table. Soon cheered up though, and was sweetness personified the rest of the morning. Perhaps she was missing granny, who flew home yesterday after two weeks that passed quickly on all sides. Marmalade was made, kitchen thoroughly spring-cleaned, birthday cake baked. Surprising how useful a third adult is when coping with bringing up a single toddler.
There was a double celebration for the second birthday. First with les petits copains at the crèche, and then back home with immediate family. Two cakes, two lots of candles successfully blown out and, err, a number of presents. Over-excitement was the order of the evening, but she eventually went to sleep.
The terrible twos seemingly started several weeks early. Tantrums are beginning to rear their ugly head, usually with no obvious cause. The first public one came and went with bewildering speed last weekend when we all went swimming. It was la petite coquinette herself who decided it was time to get out of the pool and go home, so all the more disconcerting that getting her dried and changed provoked a screaming fit. Hope we don't have to get too used to it…
Today, another minor tantrum after breakfast, followed by some sulking under the table. Soon cheered up though, and was sweetness personified the rest of the morning. Perhaps she was missing granny, who flew home yesterday after two weeks that passed quickly on all sides. Marmalade was made, kitchen thoroughly spring-cleaned, birthday cake baked. Surprising how useful a third adult is when coping with bringing up a single toddler.
28 février 2013
Brighter outlook
The sun has finally begun to make more regular appearances over the last week and, as the days lengthen, so the days of the cursed colds and coughs seem to be numbered. The course of antibiotics would appear to have done the trick for la bienheureuse and, while la petite & papa are slightly enrhumés with a cold that lingers on, it is a minor inconvenience rather than a major health hazard.
Despite being somewhat bothered by a blocked nose and chesty cough over the last ten days or so, la petite coquinette continues to astound and amaze. Favourite trick last week was diving head first off the sofa. With a pile of cushions to soften the landing I hasten to admit. She also spent most of the two hours we spent at 'Indoor Aventure' on Sunday on the trampolines, and was unfazed by a slide designated for over-3s that scared papa. Jumping is one of her favourite activities, "saute" is one of her favourite words, just one of a rapidly increasing vocabulary. About three quarters of the words she speaks at the moment seem to be French, perhaps surprisingly given that she only spends 2 days out of 7 in a totally francophone environment. It's tempting to conclude that simple French terms are easier to pronounce than English, or maybe the maternal assistants at the crèche just speak more clearly than papa…
Meanwhile her future little sister apparently sorted out all by herself the minor kidney malfunction that was causing mild concern, though la grossesse can't be said to be progressing quite as smoothly as the first. Maman, accompanied by papa, spent the morning at the hospital early this week, firstly for the echography that gave the renal all-clear, and then for a consultation with an endocrinologist, gestational diabetes having been diagnosed during the last monthly checkup. Daily blood sugar monitoring and a more careful dietary plan were prescribed.
Hopefully the new arrival won't put in her appearance during working hours. We made the decision to drive, on the correct assumption that the appointments would overrun and force me to drive straight from there to the airport to pick up la belle-mère, arriving for her grand-daughter's 2nd birthday. Big mistake (the decision to drive to the hospital that is, not going to fetch la belle-mère) - we got to the top of the hill and traffic ground to a complete halt. Neither of us could remember how much further the hospital was, but in the end the expectant mother got out and walked, leaving me to crawl along in the car.
Right decision this time, because the hospital was a mere two or three hundred yards further on, which took three minutes on foot and more than twenty by car. Ironically, it turned out that the traffic problems were caused by the queue to get into the hospital car park, which was all but full. I eventually got there, parked in the exorbitantly expensive drop-off area, and was in time to see a rather nice 3d image of an unborn face. Looks remarkably like a similar image we were treated to just over two years ago…
Despite being somewhat bothered by a blocked nose and chesty cough over the last ten days or so, la petite coquinette continues to astound and amaze. Favourite trick last week was diving head first off the sofa. With a pile of cushions to soften the landing I hasten to admit. She also spent most of the two hours we spent at 'Indoor Aventure' on Sunday on the trampolines, and was unfazed by a slide designated for over-3s that scared papa. Jumping is one of her favourite activities, "saute" is one of her favourite words, just one of a rapidly increasing vocabulary. About three quarters of the words she speaks at the moment seem to be French, perhaps surprisingly given that she only spends 2 days out of 7 in a totally francophone environment. It's tempting to conclude that simple French terms are easier to pronounce than English, or maybe the maternal assistants at the crèche just speak more clearly than papa…
Meanwhile her future little sister apparently sorted out all by herself the minor kidney malfunction that was causing mild concern, though la grossesse can't be said to be progressing quite as smoothly as the first. Maman, accompanied by papa, spent the morning at the hospital early this week, firstly for the echography that gave the renal all-clear, and then for a consultation with an endocrinologist, gestational diabetes having been diagnosed during the last monthly checkup. Daily blood sugar monitoring and a more careful dietary plan were prescribed.
Hopefully the new arrival won't put in her appearance during working hours. We made the decision to drive, on the correct assumption that the appointments would overrun and force me to drive straight from there to the airport to pick up la belle-mère, arriving for her grand-daughter's 2nd birthday. Big mistake (the decision to drive to the hospital that is, not going to fetch la belle-mère) - we got to the top of the hill and traffic ground to a complete halt. Neither of us could remember how much further the hospital was, but in the end the expectant mother got out and walked, leaving me to crawl along in the car.
Right decision this time, because the hospital was a mere two or three hundred yards further on, which took three minutes on foot and more than twenty by car. Ironically, it turned out that the traffic problems were caused by the queue to get into the hospital car park, which was all but full. I eventually got there, parked in the exorbitantly expensive drop-off area, and was in time to see a rather nice 3d image of an unborn face. Looks remarkably like a similar image we were treated to just over two years ago…
04 décembre 2012
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…
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…
11 juillet 2012
Mellow yellow
A fortnight has passed and much has happened. La belle-mère arrived for a two week visit, she and la petite-fille spent three days getting reacquainted in hot Lyon and then we all set off in the petite voiture for a week's holiday in the deep sud-ouest; more specifically the Lot-et-Garonne, a gentle land of green and gold, sunflowers and hazelnuts, ruined castles and hilltop mediaeval villages. We arrived at our base for the week, holiday residences near Monflanquin, after a smooth eight hour journey punctuated by service stops to keep la petite voyageuse from going car-seat crazy. We settled in and the week thereafter followed something of a routine - morning outing, relaxed afternoon, early evening swim, dinner and early to bed.
Sunday: with the aim of purchasing provisions for the first couple of days, we chose a morning trip to Pujols, a mediaeval village classed as l'un des plus beaux villages de France. Perched on a hilltop, with a Sunday market, it was indeed notably pretty. Provisions duly acquired, we sat down for a pizza lunch as the skies cleared, la petite made friends with the children from a large group of Dutch tourists and then displayed her talent for the grand departure by dramatically blowing a kiss at the perfect moment as we left. Mass "aaahhh". A scenic route home allowed a short afternoon nap, and then we sampled the heated outdoor pool in the holiday complex. Very pleasant.
Monday: the Chateau de Gavaudun was the chosen destination for the day's outing. On a warm sunny day we climbed and wriggled through the narrow entrance in a sheer rock face, and admired the views of the ruined castle and beyond from the top of the castle keep. Thence back to base for a late lunch, and late nap for la petite, which lasted three hours. Unheard of…
Wednesday: the weather broke, and heavy showers that came and went all day persuaded us to stay put and watch the rain coming down from the cover of the apartment. La bienheureuse cured a stir-crazy daughter by taking her for a walk in the rain, and then, like true Brits on holiday, we all went for a swim in a deserted pool despite a 10 degree drop in temperatures from the previous day.
Thursday: even cooler and wetter. Undaunted, we set off on the traditional morning outing, choosing a hazelnut farm with a self-styled 'museum' on the theory that we would be under cover. True enough, though we had a short wait outside while the owner came across from the farm to open the doors for us. Being the only visitors we had the benefit of a personal tour and tasting session, and naturally came away weighed down with nut oil, nut biscuits and nutty sweets. A short stop at another farm shop allowed us to stock up on that other local specialty, prunes. As it was even colder we skipped the swim in the pool on our return.
Saturday: homeward bound. A seven hour trip, including only two stops for a more travel-hardy toddler, and we were back in warm, muggy Lyon by five pm. The end of a pleasant and more relaxing than might have been expected week…
The last few days of la belle-mère's visit passed quickly for some. La bienheureuse spent 2 days and a night away in the company mother country while la grand-mère et la petite-fille enjoyed each other's company, apart from an extreme reluctance on the latter's part to go to bed. Perhaps the after-effects of a holiday during which she slept a lot during the day and went to bed late. Perhaps she was missing mama, or perhaps she was missing Wednesdays with her little playmates, as our nanny-sharing arrangement with the neighbours has sadly come to an unexpected and abrupt end.
Monday: the Chateau de Gavaudun was the chosen destination for the day's outing. On a warm sunny day we climbed and wriggled through the narrow entrance in a sheer rock face, and admired the views of the ruined castle and beyond from the top of the castle keep. Thence back to base for a late lunch, and late nap for la petite, which lasted three hours. Unheard of…
Tuesday: on the sunniest, hottest day of the week, we drove to le Jardin des Nenuphars, a calm and pretty garden of water-lilies and lotus flowers. The decision to stay for lunch in the outdoor café was the low point of the day. More than two hours later we finally finished the meal. A coach party of pensioners was the likely cause, but la petite didn't care, she just got ratty. However, the return to Monflanquin was notable for a couple of firsts. We took another scenic route home in the hope that la petite coquinette would sleep, a plan that worked better than our wildest dreams. Firstly she slept one when we stopped to look at a windmill on a hill, and then slept almost all the way home, a total of well over an hour. First time she's stayed asleep for more than 40 minutes in the car. A swim in the pool at the end of a hot day was more than welcome.
Wednesday: the weather broke, and heavy showers that came and went all day persuaded us to stay put and watch the rain coming down from the cover of the apartment. La bienheureuse cured a stir-crazy daughter by taking her for a walk in the rain, and then, like true Brits on holiday, we all went for a swim in a deserted pool despite a 10 degree drop in temperatures from the previous day.
Thursday: even cooler and wetter. Undaunted, we set off on the traditional morning outing, choosing a hazelnut farm with a self-styled 'museum' on the theory that we would be under cover. True enough, though we had a short wait outside while the owner came across from the farm to open the doors for us. Being the only visitors we had the benefit of a personal tour and tasting session, and naturally came away weighed down with nut oil, nut biscuits and nutty sweets. A short stop at another farm shop allowed us to stock up on that other local specialty, prunes. As it was even colder we skipped the swim in the pool on our return.
Friday: an improvement in the weather encouraged yet another outing, to another ruined castle. Le Chateau de Bonaguil calls itself the most beautiful fortified castle in France, and most impressive it was too, even if we were there a day early for the mediaeval fête the following weekend. After a picnic lunch in a shady spot above the chateau, we drove back to base and then, while the three generations of females slept or read according to age, the token male was given time off to finally visit Monflanquin, another plus beaux villages de France perched high on a hill. And very pretty it was too, all narrow alleys and picturesque stone buildings with an impressive central square bordered by arcades.
Saturday: homeward bound. A seven hour trip, including only two stops for a more travel-hardy toddler, and we were back in warm, muggy Lyon by five pm. The end of a pleasant and more relaxing than might have been expected week…
The last few days of la belle-mère's visit passed quickly for some. La bienheureuse spent 2 days and a night away in the company mother country while la grand-mère et la petite-fille enjoyed each other's company, apart from an extreme reluctance on the latter's part to go to bed. Perhaps the after-effects of a holiday during which she slept a lot during the day and went to bed late. Perhaps she was missing mama, or perhaps she was missing Wednesdays with her little playmates, as our nanny-sharing arrangement with the neighbours has sadly come to an unexpected and abrupt end.
16 mai 2012
Affecting guests
And so, our two guests' visit to Lyon started off with both their hosts somewhat indisposed by illness. La bienheureuse passed the stomach bug on to yours truly only to succumb anew to the recurrent chest and sinus infection and pay another visit to the doctor. Fortunately, the person tia y prima had really come to see was a picture of health and her usual, energetic, entertaining self. Also fortunately, the day after we returned was VE day, a bank holiday in France, allowing a relaxed start to the visit.
The next day, la petite star of the show spent the day downstairs chez les voisins as usual, which meant our visitors had no choice but to do a bit of sight-seeing. I had recovered sufficiently from the gastric affliction to take them on a walking tour of Fourvière, Vieux Lyon and the Presqu'île in beautifully warm sunny weather, while la bienheureuse spent another day recuperating at home. Roast chicken was on the menu for dinner, but was cleared of suspicion for the sleepless night spent by the sweet sobrina on multiple visits to the toilet. The vomiting virus had struck again.
La nièce thus spent most of Thursday in bed while the older generation (la travailleuse taking a couple of days of hastily scheduled leave) entertained and was kept entertained by the youngest. By Friday, the ill had recovered sufficiently to walk out in the 30 degree sunshine to have lunch at a riverside café. At least, two of us had a full lunch while another nibbled and the other chased her daughter up and down the quayside. Another group outing in the late afternoon to the playground brought the last full day of our guests' stay in Lyon to an end.
Following an early lunch we all squeezed into la petite voiture for another trip to the airport for a fond goodbye to la cuñada and sweet sobrina. We returned home while they flew back for another few days and university visits in London before heading home to Australia themselves. It seemed quiet chez nous after ten days spent in the company of others. At least, as quiet as it can be with a 14 month old who is going through a phase of constantly chatting to herself and everyone.
On Sunday, the brief appearance of summer exited stage left and temperatures plummeted a full 15 degrees. I thus had an excuse for spending much of the afternoon slumped in front of the TV, first watching cars go in circles, and then watching the dramatic climax to the English Premier League. A seesaw season thus ended with a sigh of relief on my part as Champions League football was assured for the good next year, while evil money triumphed over the devil at the top. Meanwhile, the penultimate games of the French league season ensured that the title goes down to the wire next weekend, and confirmed Europa rather than Champions League football for OL next year.
I woke on Monday morning a little apprehensive about my daughter spending her first day in more than two weeks with only boring old papa for company. I needn't have worried - she was a petit ange all day, and happily chatted and waved to all and sundry during our first solo bike trip to the park. The decision to venture further afield rather than to the usual playground around the corner meant we missed out on the excitement closer to home, where a car ended up in the window of a nearby boulangerie, fortunately without damage to life or limb. Life in Lyon is never dull.
The next day, la petite star of the show spent the day downstairs chez les voisins as usual, which meant our visitors had no choice but to do a bit of sight-seeing. I had recovered sufficiently from the gastric affliction to take them on a walking tour of Fourvière, Vieux Lyon and the Presqu'île in beautifully warm sunny weather, while la bienheureuse spent another day recuperating at home. Roast chicken was on the menu for dinner, but was cleared of suspicion for the sleepless night spent by the sweet sobrina on multiple visits to the toilet. The vomiting virus had struck again.
La nièce thus spent most of Thursday in bed while the older generation (la travailleuse taking a couple of days of hastily scheduled leave) entertained and was kept entertained by the youngest. By Friday, the ill had recovered sufficiently to walk out in the 30 degree sunshine to have lunch at a riverside café. At least, two of us had a full lunch while another nibbled and the other chased her daughter up and down the quayside. Another group outing in the late afternoon to the playground brought the last full day of our guests' stay in Lyon to an end.
Following an early lunch we all squeezed into la petite voiture for another trip to the airport for a fond goodbye to la cuñada and sweet sobrina. We returned home while they flew back for another few days and university visits in London before heading home to Australia themselves. It seemed quiet chez nous after ten days spent in the company of others. At least, as quiet as it can be with a 14 month old who is going through a phase of constantly chatting to herself and everyone.
On Sunday, the brief appearance of summer exited stage left and temperatures plummeted a full 15 degrees. I thus had an excuse for spending much of the afternoon slumped in front of the TV, first watching cars go in circles, and then watching the dramatic climax to the English Premier League. A seesaw season thus ended with a sigh of relief on my part as Champions League football was assured for the good next year, while evil money triumphed over the devil at the top. Meanwhile, the penultimate games of the French league season ensured that the title goes down to the wire next weekend, and confirmed Europa rather than Champions League football for OL next year.
I woke on Monday morning a little apprehensive about my daughter spending her first day in more than two weeks with only boring old papa for company. I needn't have worried - she was a petit ange all day, and happily chatted and waved to all and sundry during our first solo bike trip to the park. The decision to venture further afield rather than to the usual playground around the corner meant we missed out on the excitement closer to home, where a car ended up in the window of a nearby boulangerie, fortunately without damage to life or limb. Life in Lyon is never dull.
08 mai 2012
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…
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…
25 avril 2012
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...
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...
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…
10 mars 2012
Infectious affection
Twelve months can pass very quickly. La petite coquinette is now in her second year of life. It seems just a short while ago that she was making us wait before making an appearance. She celebrated her first birthday with a couple of other firsts - first day (in fact half-day) spent away from both parents, and first cold. The former, in the company of two little neighbours downstairs and their nanny, was the start of a regular one day a week event. She was apparently quite unconcerned about being left in the company of strangers for several hours. Meanwhile the apartment got a much-needed spring clean as her mother distracted herself.
The cold was a less welcome novelty and serves her right for kissing strange boys in the street. Told you she was precocious. Though in fact it was her suitor who made the first move - another toddler, a few months older, judging by his size, spotted her while we were strolling along the river, made a bee line for her and started smothering her with bisous. She was quite unfazed by it all, but then she's used it. That was the third spontaneous show of affection from passers by she's inspired in recent week. A young woman planted a kiss on her brow a few weeks ago, and then a young man chucked her on the cheek a few days ago. I guess we shouldn't be surprised…
I witnessed another show of affection this week when I made another pilgrimage across the Channel to witness the last rites of another Champions League season at the holy ground. Affection is something that hasn't been much in evidence among the fans in recent months, but the performance in so nearly coming back from a four goal deficit was worthy of it. Apart from the disappointment of coming so near and yet so far, it was a pleasant trip, with a pint or two and dinner in the pub with the Margarita man and a chatty young friend. I almost didn't make it either, with technical problems on the tram to the airport and the usual understaffing at the immigration control causing anxiety about catching the flight. The return leg was much smoother and I was home in time to sing happy birthday and share my snotty daughter's cake.
The following day la grand-mère bade us a reluctant goodbye and returned home, having completed her quota of baking and sewing chores and restocked her supply of grandchild memories. And so yesterday la petite enrhumée was left with just papa for entertainment and company during the day. We survived…
The cold was a less welcome novelty and serves her right for kissing strange boys in the street. Told you she was precocious. Though in fact it was her suitor who made the first move - another toddler, a few months older, judging by his size, spotted her while we were strolling along the river, made a bee line for her and started smothering her with bisous. She was quite unfazed by it all, but then she's used it. That was the third spontaneous show of affection from passers by she's inspired in recent week. A young woman planted a kiss on her brow a few weeks ago, and then a young man chucked her on the cheek a few days ago. I guess we shouldn't be surprised…
I witnessed another show of affection this week when I made another pilgrimage across the Channel to witness the last rites of another Champions League season at the holy ground. Affection is something that hasn't been much in evidence among the fans in recent months, but the performance in so nearly coming back from a four goal deficit was worthy of it. Apart from the disappointment of coming so near and yet so far, it was a pleasant trip, with a pint or two and dinner in the pub with the Margarita man and a chatty young friend. I almost didn't make it either, with technical problems on the tram to the airport and the usual understaffing at the immigration control causing anxiety about catching the flight. The return leg was much smoother and I was home in time to sing happy birthday and share my snotty daughter's cake.
The following day la grand-mère bade us a reluctant goodbye and returned home, having completed her quota of baking and sewing chores and restocked her supply of grandchild memories. And so yesterday la petite enrhumée was left with just papa for entertainment and company during the day. We survived…
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.
17 décembre 2011
Light visits
The 2011 version of la Fête des Lumières came and went with the usual crowded streets and a couple of visitors making it a crowd chez nous. A bit of a mixed bag this year - some good, some a little underwhelming. Perhaps the moderate impression comes from the fact that we didn't get out to see a great deal of the displays, partly due to the logistical difficulties that come attached to evening sorties with a 9 month old baby, partly because I rather thoughtlessly booked a flying trip to London last weekend. Which only caused me to miss one night, spent with only a cat for company as my usual hotel owners were all out partying. Nonetheless it was worth the trip because the 1-0 victory over the Toffees coincided with the 125th anniversary of the best football club in the world.Earlier in the week, visitor number two, la soeur, arrived to see the lights and her niece, not necessarily in that order of priority, on the night of the 8th. Her chauffeur was late arriving at the airport because he lingered to watch the opening night fireworks and trusted the Lyon airport website when it said the flight was twenty minutes late instead of early. Never mind, she got here in the end and the next night her brother treated her to a marathon grand tour of the main light sites in the town centre while the three generations of the other side of the family restricted themselves to a shorter look.
While I was away feeding a habit, the four ladies enjoyed a weekend of not doing any Christmas shopping or any lights viewing. A visit to the Marché de Noël was abandoned due to the crowds. Still, the visitors found their main entertainment without leaving home. On Sunday the traveller returned and did his duty by staying at home to look after baby while the three older ladies visited the park to view la Mythe de la Tête d'Or, one of the highlights of the Lumières.
By Tuesday the visitors had returned from whence they'd come, la bienheureuse was back at work and reluctantly out for dinner in the evening, which meant la petite had only papa for company. A return to her own bedroom met with mixed results. Decent daytime naps were somewhat counterbalanced by a half hour complaining session before she finally went to sleep in the evening. Similar story the next night, with la travailleuse out being quiz master at another work do, followed by a day when she wasn't keen on going to sleep at all. At lunch the situation was complicated by the fact that I was waiting for Monsieur le chauffagiste to turn up to service the boiler. By the time he phoned ninety minutes late to say he was on his way la petite coquinette had won the nap battle, and later in the evening it took an hour for her mother to finally get her to sleep. Two days later things seem to have returned to normal. Famous last words...
01 novembre 2011
Winning wine, warm wind
A warm southerly blew in a mild autumn weekend during which we welcomed more visitors. TwoJay arrived on Friday afternoon for baby viewing and wine tasting purposes. They both quickly made friends with la petite before la bienheureuse got home from work and the epicurean weekend got off to a good start with roast lamb, tarte aux framboises and Chateauneuf-du-Pape. And a little whisky supping for the seasoned and foolhardy later in the evening.
Next morning, once hangovers were sufficiently suppressed with croissants and copious cups of tea, the advance party set off for the main event of the weekend, the Salon des Vins. While JonEboy, Crystal Tipps and stay-at-home papa set about the wine tasting with gusto, la bienheureuse et la petite followed in their own time and had lunch accompanied by clear liquid before any of the red, white or sparkling varieties were tested. In a perfectly conceived and executed operation, papa then handed over the wine tasting and purchasing duties to sa femme and took le bébé home again for her lunchtime nap. Ulterior motive was of course a certain football match on TV. And what a match it was - the Russian mafia funded blue mercenaries blasted into submission by the superior firepower of the red and white Dutch cannon.
Smoked salmon & prawn cream bake followed by filet mignon cooked in milk was on the menu in the evening, followed by la bienheureuse's signature dish. The pork main dish was suitably complemented by La Truffière, and the entrée and dessert by Gewurztraminer. No digestifs and earlier bedtime meant clearer heads the next morning. J+J finished off their trip with a visit to Les Halles, with chocolate and cheese on the shopping list. With luggage allowance filled by wine, there was no room for the latter in the suitcase, but it made a very nice lunch before they headed off to the airport at the end of a very convivial weekend.
The mild weather continues into November, and Toussaint means a four day weekend for la travailleuse, lengthened to five so that she take can advantage of a welcome-baby gift tomorrow with a much-needed massage. Not much extra rest though, as the clock change means a little voice chirps a welcome to the new day an hour earlier each morning…
15 octobre 2011
Autumn warmth
No sooner home from the warm sunny south than back out again on a balmy late September Lyon evening. Having once again indulged in an OL season ticket, the 4th home game of the season was my first chance to use it. Les gones this season are a different team to last. Gone are the sterile Puel tactics of last year; the new watchword under new coach Remi Garde (who learnt from the maître manager in England) is entertainment. So far so good - OL went into the game 2nd in the table and continued in more or less the same vein with a 3-1 win over Bordeaux.
The Indian summer continued into October apart from a couple of damp days which coincided with the arrival of la belle-mère. Not to worry though, the sunshine and record temperatures soon returned, and Mamy enjoyed a week of her granddaughter's company, sundry sewing chores, copious cup-cake cooking and afternoon perambulator ambles along the sunny banks of the Rhône.
Too soon she reluctantly went home and, just as reluctantly, la bienheureuse followed her to the airport at the start of a hectic week of travelling. Milan on Tuesday and Wednesday, home in the evening just in time for a cuddle before bedtime with la petite, then off to Germany the following morning before baby was awake. Finally home again on Friday evening, with barely time to pause for breath before we all set off for a weekend across the Channel later today, followed by more business travel, for la travaillleuse, across the Irish sea. First flight for la petite coquinette…
The Indian summer continued into October apart from a couple of damp days which coincided with the arrival of la belle-mère. Not to worry though, the sunshine and record temperatures soon returned, and Mamy enjoyed a week of her granddaughter's company, sundry sewing chores, copious cup-cake cooking and afternoon perambulator ambles along the sunny banks of the Rhône.
18 septembre 2011
Flag day
A day before her half-year birthday, la petite met her old friend Monsieur le pédiatre for a six-month checkup. Result: nearly 5kg heavier, 15cm taller than her first day at home. Diagnosis: "elle est magnifique!"; high time she started eating some real food.
And so, the next day papa got to give his litle angel her first spoonful or two (mama reluctantly at work). Reaction: puzzlement ('why is the old man trying to stick something other than a teat in my mouth, when he normally stops me from doing it?'), followed by uncertain testing of the strange substance (pureed carrot). I think a little of it went down her gullet. Over the next few days, two spoonfuls became several, several became many, and many more ended up all over her bib, her face, her hair, her hands, her clothes, the high chair, and of course mum & dad. Messy business, especially when the raspberry blowing receives full treatment.
She soon got to show off her new skills to visitors. The UKC connection, Ealing branch, were in town for a long weekend - work and baby viewing purposes, respectively and combined. They arrived late Thursday evening, and the next morning Dr N and la bienheureuse went off to their respective work, leaving Dr C to enjoy some time with old dad and baby. Which she did after doing a bit of work remote from Whitehall. No real rest for these high-powered civil servants. By afternoon however, both visitors had finished working, and la bienheureuse met us all at the end of our habitual late afternoon stroll along the river for a slow drink on a boat café.
The rest of the weekend followed a similar pattern: morning lie-ins for those that could, morning naps for those that wished or didn't wish, and lazy strolls out in the afternoon, which provided a surprise source of great entertainment for la petite - flapping flags on the bridge. Highly exciting stuff to a six month old, apparently. In the evening, NB gestured towards an upcoming half-marathon by punishing himself with early evening jogging up and down the river while dinner was cooking and baby was being put to bed. Saturday blurred into Sunday, and all too soon it was Monday morning and our visitors were on their way home.
They were followed to the airport two days later by a reluctant business traveller heading towards the company mother country. Dad and baby were thus left to cope on their own for a day, which they managed in their usual fashion. I even had time to sort out dive kit for the forthcoming holiday before notre bien-aimée was home on Thursday evening. More late packing late the following evening and by Saturday morning we were more or less ready for the drive south towards sea and sunshine...
And so, the next day papa got to give his litle angel her first spoonful or two (mama reluctantly at work). Reaction: puzzlement ('why is the old man trying to stick something other than a teat in my mouth, when he normally stops me from doing it?'), followed by uncertain testing of the strange substance (pureed carrot). I think a little of it went down her gullet. Over the next few days, two spoonfuls became several, several became many, and many more ended up all over her bib, her face, her hair, her hands, her clothes, the high chair, and of course mum & dad. Messy business, especially when the raspberry blowing receives full treatment.
She soon got to show off her new skills to visitors. The UKC connection, Ealing branch, were in town for a long weekend - work and baby viewing purposes, respectively and combined. They arrived late Thursday evening, and the next morning Dr N and la bienheureuse went off to their respective work, leaving Dr C to enjoy some time with old dad and baby. Which she did after doing a bit of work remote from Whitehall. No real rest for these high-powered civil servants. By afternoon however, both visitors had finished working, and la bienheureuse met us all at the end of our habitual late afternoon stroll along the river for a slow drink on a boat café.
The rest of the weekend followed a similar pattern: morning lie-ins for those that could, morning naps for those that wished or didn't wish, and lazy strolls out in the afternoon, which provided a surprise source of great entertainment for la petite - flapping flags on the bridge. Highly exciting stuff to a six month old, apparently. In the evening, NB gestured towards an upcoming half-marathon by punishing himself with early evening jogging up and down the river while dinner was cooking and baby was being put to bed. Saturday blurred into Sunday, and all too soon it was Monday morning and our visitors were on their way home.
They were followed to the airport two days later by a reluctant business traveller heading towards the company mother country. Dad and baby were thus left to cope on their own for a day, which they managed in their usual fashion. I even had time to sort out dive kit for the forthcoming holiday before notre bien-aimée was home on Thursday evening. More late packing late the following evening and by Saturday morning we were more or less ready for the drive south towards sea and sunshine...
20 août 2011
1300 kilometres
The two penultimate days before the marathon journey to blighted Blighty were taken up with transitory visitors. Friday evening, the three Goldilocks and their parents dropped in on their way to the Mediterranean sunshine. La petite reacted to the sudden appearance of five new faces by bursting into tears. Well, it was the end of the day. The following evening, the two doctors and the mini-jezoids arrived after she was in bed, thus delaying the gradual introduction of four more new faces until Sunday morning. Refreshed by 12 hours of sleep and the knowledge that she wasn't alone in not being in full control of bodily functions, she was all smiles and good humour. By midday our visitors had continued their journey south, and we were almost ready for the long trek north.
The twelve hour car journey, split over two days, was more dream than nightmare. La petite slept, from time to time, in her car seat, though never for longer than 45 minutes. And the rest of the time was kept amused with songs, toys and games, or kept quiet with a bottle in her mouth. Only one inconsolable bout of screaming occurred, 20 minutes before arrival at our mid-journey hotel in Laon. And so, via autoroute, hotel, ferry, and motorway, we eventually reached Cambridge 30 hours after leaving Lyon.
Two more new faces were greeted with more smiling and flirting, even though it was grouchy time of day. Honorary auntie C and onkel J were suitably charmed. The following evening, chez Professor Margarita, the Cambridge buddies descended en masse to meet the new addition. And once more, la petite coquinette turned on the charm. Another seven new faces were greeted with smiles and flirts aplenty before it was time for bed.
After a day spent recovering (brief shopping trip for la bienheureuse apart), it was time to be cooped up in that dreaded car-seat for another 300km journey north to Cheshire. Four hours later (those good old British go-slow motorways) we arrived chez la grand-mère. End of the road for our trusty overloaded petite voiture (with functioning air-conditioning), but two days later la petite was hitting the road again. While son papa was on a thankless mission to the asset-stripped home of football in London, sa mere et grand-mère headed further north to the Great Three Sisters Family Reunion in the Lakes, via a brief smaller family reunion in Blackpool. Another two hours in the car, another five new faces.
The twelve hour car journey, split over two days, was more dream than nightmare. La petite slept, from time to time, in her car seat, though never for longer than 45 minutes. And the rest of the time was kept amused with songs, toys and games, or kept quiet with a bottle in her mouth. Only one inconsolable bout of screaming occurred, 20 minutes before arrival at our mid-journey hotel in Laon. And so, via autoroute, hotel, ferry, and motorway, we eventually reached Cambridge 30 hours after leaving Lyon.
Two more new faces were greeted with more smiling and flirting, even though it was grouchy time of day. Honorary auntie C and onkel J were suitably charmed. The following evening, chez Professor Margarita, the Cambridge buddies descended en masse to meet the new addition. And once more, la petite coquinette turned on the charm. Another seven new faces were greeted with smiles and flirts aplenty before it was time for bed.
After a day spent recovering (brief shopping trip for la bienheureuse apart), it was time to be cooped up in that dreaded car-seat for another 300km journey north to Cheshire. Four hours later (those good old British go-slow motorways) we arrived chez la grand-mère. End of the road for our trusty overloaded petite voiture (with functioning air-conditioning), but two days later la petite was hitting the road again. While son papa was on a thankless mission to the asset-stripped home of football in London, sa mere et grand-mère headed further north to the Great Three Sisters Family Reunion in the Lakes, via a brief smaller family reunion in Blackpool. Another two hours in the car, another five new faces.
20 juillet 2011
Two seuls encore
And then there were two. La grand-mère et la mère left yesterday in the morning rain, heading for the airport at different times in separate taxis, the former heading home after two weeks of grandchild entertainment, sundry sewing jobs and jam-making, the latter reluctantly flying off for a meeting in the company mother country. She will be home this evening but meanwhile la petite et son père have just each other for company once more. Teething troubles seem to be the main preoccupation at the moment. Nothing a bit of drugging won't solve.
On Monday we had a visitor (NB arrived despite making few plans), and la petite coquinette awoke from early evening sleep in her most beguiling mood to meet our dinner guest with sleepy smiles and coy flirts aplenty. He left with a belly full of moussaka, crumble and Coteaux de Tricastin, and a phone full of blurred photos to show to Dr C. His mission of finding the hotel at the top of the tallest building in Lyon was eventually accomplished.
Rumours of the demise of Contador may well have been premature. Yesterday's stage, previously assumed to be anodyne, saw him attack on the only climb of the day in driving rain and autumnal temperatures, leaving the man who was runner-up last year trailing in his spray. Lots of complaints about the weather in France at the moment, particularly from the holiday industry. Temperatures for the middle week in July are forecast to be about five degrees lower than those we had in the middle of April. The next three Alpine stages in le Tour could be interesting, including two climbs up the col du Galibier, which on Sunday was under several inches of snow, occasioning the rescue of a number of cycling nuts who were attempting to emulate the professionals in shorts and t-shirts.
On Monday we had a visitor (NB arrived despite making few plans), and la petite coquinette awoke from early evening sleep in her most beguiling mood to meet our dinner guest with sleepy smiles and coy flirts aplenty. He left with a belly full of moussaka, crumble and Coteaux de Tricastin, and a phone full of blurred photos to show to Dr C. His mission of finding the hotel at the top of the tallest building in Lyon was eventually accomplished.
Rumours of the demise of Contador may well have been premature. Yesterday's stage, previously assumed to be anodyne, saw him attack on the only climb of the day in driving rain and autumnal temperatures, leaving the man who was runner-up last year trailing in his spray. Lots of complaints about the weather in France at the moment, particularly from the holiday industry. Temperatures for the middle week in July are forecast to be about five degrees lower than those we had in the middle of April. The next three Alpine stages in le Tour could be interesting, including two climbs up the col du Galibier, which on Sunday was under several inches of snow, occasioning the rescue of a number of cycling nuts who were attempting to emulate the professionals in shorts and t-shirts.
15 juillet 2011
Cooling and climbing
Baby travel tale number five, Tuesday: in thirty-five degree heat, la grand-mère, la mère et la fille set off in la voiture with broken air-conditioning to visit a friend and her baby. Short ten minute journey fortunately, and la petite behaves perfectly during the trip there, the visit, and falls asleep in the car on the way back! Hallelujah.
Next day le père takes the car to the garage to get the air-conditioning fixed. Diagnosis: leaking compressor. Cost of repair: 900 euros for a new replacement, or 560 for a repaired one. Plus labour costs. Hmm, trusty (air-con apart) old banger is barely worth that much. Internet search reveals second hand compressors are available for about 100 euros. Wonder if the (franchised) garage will put it in? Quatorze juillet yesterday and bridging day today, garage closed. Have to wait till next week to find out…
There was the usual fireworks show above Fourvière yesterday to celebrate la fête nationale, an event dampened by the deaths of five French soldiers in Afghanistan but not by the torrential rain, which came and went the previous day. La belle-mère et le beau-fils toddled to the end of the road late last night to watch, while la bienheureuse looked after last feed of the day for la petite coquinette. The latter has learned a new trick recently - blowing raspberries. Which she does frequently and with great gusto. Significance? No idea. Any baby behaviour experts out there, answers on a postcard please.
Bastille day also produced minor fireworks yesterday, during the start of the real Tour de France, the first mountain stage. As expected, French cyclists made valiant attempts to win the stage, accompanied by a worthy Welsh gooner, but in the end the favourites all finished more or less together. Main talking point though was the fact that the others gained a few more seconds on Contador. Never seen before.
Up until yesterday the Tour was characterised by the number of falls. Contador alone has tumbled four times. Seems it really isn't his year, but the most spectacular day of chutes was on Sunday, when several riders were severely injured in one major crash, and a car belonging to France Televisions knocked two of the leading group into a barbed wire fence. Both bravely got back on their bikes and finished the stage, but the incident made lots of noise in France. The car driver was excluded from the tour, and there is talk about requiring all drivers and motorbike riders to be former professional cyclists. Most already are, though not the culprit on Sunday.
Next day le père takes the car to the garage to get the air-conditioning fixed. Diagnosis: leaking compressor. Cost of repair: 900 euros for a new replacement, or 560 for a repaired one. Plus labour costs. Hmm, trusty (air-con apart) old banger is barely worth that much. Internet search reveals second hand compressors are available for about 100 euros. Wonder if the (franchised) garage will put it in? Quatorze juillet yesterday and bridging day today, garage closed. Have to wait till next week to find out…
Bastille day also produced minor fireworks yesterday, during the start of the real Tour de France, the first mountain stage. As expected, French cyclists made valiant attempts to win the stage, accompanied by a worthy Welsh gooner, but in the end the favourites all finished more or less together. Main talking point though was the fact that the others gained a few more seconds on Contador. Never seen before.
Up until yesterday the Tour was characterised by the number of falls. Contador alone has tumbled four times. Seems it really isn't his year, but the most spectacular day of chutes was on Sunday, when several riders were severely injured in one major crash, and a car belonging to France Televisions knocked two of the leading group into a barbed wire fence. Both bravely got back on their bikes and finished the stage, but the incident made lots of noise in France. The car driver was excluded from the tour, and there is talk about requiring all drivers and motorbike riders to be former professional cyclists. Most already are, though not the culprit on Sunday.
10 juillet 2011
Travel travails
Baby's travel experience so far amounts to afternoon pram promenades along the river and four car journeys. First car trip: short ride home from hospital - five day old baby sleeps all the way. Second excursion: return trip to the airport to pick up grandmère - 3 week old baby sleeps through puncture incident, all the way to the airport, and part of the way back. So far so good, babies always sleep in the car don't they?
Not this one.
Car trip number 3: short ride to the garden centre and back. La petite, aged almost 3 months, starts screaming inconsolably before we're two minutes down the road. Resorting to the dreaded dummy, which we'd rather stupidly left in the boot necessitating an emergency stop, finally calms her.
Travel tale number 4: a couple of days before celebrating 4 months in this world, we treat la petite coquinette to another car ride and another trip to the airport to pick up Mamy. She remains wide awake all the way out, and wide awake and screaming all the way back. Dummies, toys, singing, pulling faces, making funny noises, gagging, none of it works, and the non-functioning climatisation doesn't help either. And in five weeks we look forward to 12 hours in the car on a trip back to Blighty. That'll be fun…
Otherwise it's been a quiet week. La grandmère has got to know her newly alert and demanding grandchild, and her feeding quirks. La bienheureuse left her trois bien-aimés at home on Tuesday night to fly to Germany for a work meeting the next day. First night away from baby, first time papa has had to put la petite coquinette to bed since a not-so-successful attempt three weeks ago. He approached the task with some trepidation, but never fear. The two angels' bedtime routine works like a charm. She may not sleep in cars but she sleeps all night.
It wasn't so quiet earlier yesterday evening. The Punjabi princess was back in Lyon for a visit and graced us with her presence. Looking forward to her own happy event in a few months, she was eager to meet notre petite for the first time. And was treated to a big smile, swiftly followed by a loud wail of distress. And for the next ninety minutes, our visitor was treated to baby behaviour at its worst. Certainly our baby's behaviour at its worst. Not quite sure what brought that on - probably a mixture of over-excitement and over-tiredness. Fortunately, once la petite was put to bed silence and normality returned - silence in a manner of speaking: dinner with three women is never a particularly quiet affair, not these particular women anyway.
Not this one.
Car trip number 3: short ride to the garden centre and back. La petite, aged almost 3 months, starts screaming inconsolably before we're two minutes down the road. Resorting to the dreaded dummy, which we'd rather stupidly left in the boot necessitating an emergency stop, finally calms her.
Travel tale number 4: a couple of days before celebrating 4 months in this world, we treat la petite coquinette to another car ride and another trip to the airport to pick up Mamy. She remains wide awake all the way out, and wide awake and screaming all the way back. Dummies, toys, singing, pulling faces, making funny noises, gagging, none of it works, and the non-functioning climatisation doesn't help either. And in five weeks we look forward to 12 hours in the car on a trip back to Blighty. That'll be fun…
Otherwise it's been a quiet week. La grandmère has got to know her newly alert and demanding grandchild, and her feeding quirks. La bienheureuse left her trois bien-aimés at home on Tuesday night to fly to Germany for a work meeting the next day. First night away from baby, first time papa has had to put la petite coquinette to bed since a not-so-successful attempt three weeks ago. He approached the task with some trepidation, but never fear. The two angels' bedtime routine works like a charm. She may not sleep in cars but she sleeps all night.
It wasn't so quiet earlier yesterday evening. The Punjabi princess was back in Lyon for a visit and graced us with her presence. Looking forward to her own happy event in a few months, she was eager to meet notre petite for the first time. And was treated to a big smile, swiftly followed by a loud wail of distress. And for the next ninety minutes, our visitor was treated to baby behaviour at its worst. Certainly our baby's behaviour at its worst. Not quite sure what brought that on - probably a mixture of over-excitement and over-tiredness. Fortunately, once la petite was put to bed silence and normality returned - silence in a manner of speaking: dinner with three women is never a particularly quiet affair, not these particular women anyway.
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