Seems I spoke too soon about the improved mood in the French football camp. No sooner had they gained plaudits for their first two games, than they threw it all away against a team with nothing to play for. Thanks to English luck though, they still made it through to the quarter-finals, where the bad against Sweden went to worse against Spain. It seems the fissures in les Bleus had only been papered over post-Knysna.
The French public and media are reasonably unanimous in condemning the self-centredness and lack of respect displayed by some players. And squarely in the middle of all the blame flying around was one Citizen who shunned footballing idealism for huge reserves of oil-stained lucre. Quite apart from his hate-hate relationship with the French media, even his teammates were accusing him of selfishness. Now where have I heard that before? L'Équipe claims the authorities are considering banning him from the national team for two years. Hohoho…
Watching an otherwise entertaining Euro 2012 unfold on French TV has been something of a trial. Unlike previous major competitions, which have all been available on free-to-air channels, this year a new player muscled in on the scene and bought up a large chunk of the TV rights. And as it's a subscription channel, if you don't pay, you don't watch. In fact half the games, including all the knockout phase are on free channels and I thought I was quids in when the new channel appeared on our cable feed unscrambled during the first weekend. However, three days in the so-and-sos encrypted it, so I was forced to miss half the remaining group games. Which at least offered some relief in certain quarters…
In the domestic arena things trundle along happily. La petite continues to grow and develop at what I might describe as an alarming rate. Most things have to be be done by herself and help from parents is often decidedly unwelcome, which doesn't stop her becoming quickly frustrated and upset when things don't go her way. Favourite activities at the moment include taking dirty mugs and bits of rubbish into the kitchen and wearing papa's underwear.
The last couple of weekends we've kept her amused by taking her swimming on Saturday morning, where she floats and splashes happily when she's not gazing intently at all the other activity going on around her. Last Sunday we also ventured out on a day trip to the Parc des Oiseaux, where she remarkably suffered without complaint an unexpected half hour queue to get in. I guess the thing about queues is that there are always plenty of other people to keep the interest. As for the birds, well they were just birds…
29 juin 2012
18 juin 2012
Pride, prejudice, pathos
And so, Président Hollande and the Socialists duly won a thumping parliamentary majority in the second round of elections yesterday. Not that 43% of the French electorate cared enough to go out and vote. Media interest has been concentrated on various high profile circonscriptions, such as the one in Northern France where the Front National leader's gratifyingly lost by a whisker to her Socialist rival. Perhaps Mme Le Pen should have grown a beard to go with the voice. Unfortunately, 3 of her similarly inclined colleague, including her 22 year old niece, did win their seats to give the extreme right MPs for the first time.
Elsewhere, Ségolène Royal was soundly beaten in her chosen seat by the dissident Socialist who maintained his candidacy despite being ordered by the party hierarchy to stand down in favour of the 'parachuted in' Royal. The battle was given added piquancy when Valérie Trierweiler, the current partner of Hollande tweeted her support for the rebel Olivier Falorni. Mme Royal was given lukewarm backing by the president and is, of course, his ex-partner and mother of his four children. Miaow…
One novelty this year was the introduction of 11 'foreign' constituencies, among them one for Northern Europe which includes the UK, giving expat French people a minor say in what goes on in their mother country. Anybody in Westminster listening? asks one expat Brit who will lose his right to vote in the UK in less than five years…
Perhaps France was more preoccupied by the European football championships in Poland and the Ukraine, where the national team's campaign has borne a marked contrast to the 2010 World Cup, despite a mere draw with the boring English. The subsequent win over Ukraine has seemingly set les Bleus on course for the quarter-finals, barring an unlikely set of results in the next games.
The football itself was somewhat overshadowed over the weekend by the sudden death of Thierry Roland, the doyen of French football commentators. His enthusiasm for the game will be sorely missed on TV games from now on, even if TF1 had already rather rudely deprived him of his largest audience some years ago. Perhaps the best description of his commentating style was given by another larger than life character in French football, Rolland Courbis, who said he commentated as though he was watching games at home from his own sofa. RIP Thierry.
Elsewhere, Ségolène Royal was soundly beaten in her chosen seat by the dissident Socialist who maintained his candidacy despite being ordered by the party hierarchy to stand down in favour of the 'parachuted in' Royal. The battle was given added piquancy when Valérie Trierweiler, the current partner of Hollande tweeted her support for the rebel Olivier Falorni. Mme Royal was given lukewarm backing by the president and is, of course, his ex-partner and mother of his four children. Miaow…
One novelty this year was the introduction of 11 'foreign' constituencies, among them one for Northern Europe which includes the UK, giving expat French people a minor say in what goes on in their mother country. Anybody in Westminster listening? asks one expat Brit who will lose his right to vote in the UK in less than five years…
Perhaps France was more preoccupied by the European football championships in Poland and the Ukraine, where the national team's campaign has borne a marked contrast to the 2010 World Cup, despite a mere draw with the boring English. The subsequent win over Ukraine has seemingly set les Bleus on course for the quarter-finals, barring an unlikely set of results in the next games.
The football itself was somewhat overshadowed over the weekend by the sudden death of Thierry Roland, the doyen of French football commentators. His enthusiasm for the game will be sorely missed on TV games from now on, even if TF1 had already rather rudely deprived him of his largest audience some years ago. Perhaps the best description of his commentating style was given by another larger than life character in French football, Rolland Courbis, who said he commentated as though he was watching games at home from his own sofa. RIP Thierry.
11 juin 2012
Dampened expectations
The first round of the parliamentary elections in France yesterday were inevitably somewhat overshadowed by the presidential election that preceded them a month ago. It wasn't until about 10 days ago that the media started paying much attention at all to them, and that was mainly focused on the more high-profile constituencies such as the extreme right-far left punch-up between Le Pen & Melenchon. And it seems enthusiasm for the vote was duly dampened, perhaps in part by the wet weather yesterday, because the turnout was the lowest ever in the republican era.
The new president seems likely to be given a workable parliamentary majority, even if it is only with the support of the far left. Thanks to the election system, the Front de Gauche are ironically predicted to gain a dozen or so seats, at least four times as many as the Front National despite only getting half the number of votes and Melenchon losing the mediatised battle with Le Pen. Long may it continue…
Chez these particular disenfranchised foreigners, the election more or less passed us by. Other matters demand greater attention:
the weather - the arrival of summer ten days ago turned out to be a mere rumour. Since that blazing hot Saturday, temperatures have dropped below seasonal norms and the rain has been more or less ever present. Taking la petite out for her daily constitutional has become an exercise in dodging the showers. Yesterday we got it wrong. A trip by bike to the local garden centre for lunch and an emergency purchase of wellies for la travailleuse's sugar beet field trip to eastern Germany this week seemed a good idea until we left the shop to find the rain coming down. No waterproofs either. Fortunately it eased enough for us to get home without getting too wet.
toddler health: another routine visit to the paediatrician last week produced familiar results - tears and struggles before the jab but not after, a clean bill of health, another 3cm, another kilo, and a recommendation from the good doctor that la petite take up judo after her demonstration of muscle strength. He also warned of minor after-effects from the MMR vaccine, which possibly explain why la petite succumbed to yet another cold a few days later.
toddler adventure: the cold doesn't stop the little stunt artist from frequent demonstrations of her new found climbing skills. Latest favourite mountains to conquer are the arms of the sofas, from which it's great fun to fall backwards onto the soft sofa cushions. Continual admonishments from mama & papa as they nervously eye the more dangerous fall in the other direction have little effect.
The new president seems likely to be given a workable parliamentary majority, even if it is only with the support of the far left. Thanks to the election system, the Front de Gauche are ironically predicted to gain a dozen or so seats, at least four times as many as the Front National despite only getting half the number of votes and Melenchon losing the mediatised battle with Le Pen. Long may it continue…
Chez these particular disenfranchised foreigners, the election more or less passed us by. Other matters demand greater attention:
the weather - the arrival of summer ten days ago turned out to be a mere rumour. Since that blazing hot Saturday, temperatures have dropped below seasonal norms and the rain has been more or less ever present. Taking la petite out for her daily constitutional has become an exercise in dodging the showers. Yesterday we got it wrong. A trip by bike to the local garden centre for lunch and an emergency purchase of wellies for la travailleuse's sugar beet field trip to eastern Germany this week seemed a good idea until we left the shop to find the rain coming down. No waterproofs either. Fortunately it eased enough for us to get home without getting too wet.
toddler health: another routine visit to the paediatrician last week produced familiar results - tears and struggles before the jab but not after, a clean bill of health, another 3cm, another kilo, and a recommendation from the good doctor that la petite take up judo after her demonstration of muscle strength. He also warned of minor after-effects from the MMR vaccine, which possibly explain why la petite succumbed to yet another cold a few days later.
toddler adventure: the cold doesn't stop the little stunt artist from frequent demonstrations of her new found climbing skills. Latest favourite mountains to conquer are the arms of the sofas, from which it's great fun to fall backwards onto the soft sofa cushions. Continual admonishments from mama & papa as they nervously eye the more dangerous fall in the other direction have little effect.
06 juin 2012
Sun & water dance
On Saturday, the sun shone, the temperature climbed into the thirties and we spent the afternoon at the Fête de l'Eau, not so much a water party as the Jons village fête. A friend of la bienheureuse was one of the organisers, hence our presence, and we enjoyed delicious paella for lunch in the sweltering heat. Someone had rather thoughtlessly cut down the large trees that had apparently provided shade in previous years, but a giant marquee fortunately sheltered the lunch party from the worst of the sun, even if it also trapped warm air somewhat.
On the agenda after lunch was a guided visit to the Barrage de Jons, one of the dams on the Rhône management system that diverts water to a small hydroelectric station upriver of Lyon. Meanwhile, back at the party, dancing dogs, rides in horse-drawn carriages and various river craft continued through the afternoon. And so did the music, the rhumba band delighting la petite danseuse so much that she climbed up onto the dance floor and led the boogying.
The next day we recovered and the water arrived a day late, lots of it falling from the sky. As if in sympathy, the thermometer mercury tumbled too, a full fifteen degrees. From midsummer to early spring in one fell swoop, and la petite grognarde went a little stir crazy, despite being taken out for a walk in the rain by maman while papa remained dry in front of the TV tennis. Or perhaps she was suffering from the previous day's excitement and lack of sleep. Still, the day spent mostly indoors allowed her to practise her latest skill, climbing. Nothing so easy as the sofa for her. No, something more challenging like the baby walker or the wooden activity box. And once she's reached the top and stood up, the huge self-congratulatory grin - 'look, no hands, how clever am I?' - makes it hard to tell her off with a straight face.
A few days earlier a different sort of water was falling from above. La bienheureuse went into la petite chambre and realised there was leak coming from l'appartement au dessus. Visions of the infamous flood of 2006 came flooding back and she dashed upstairs to warn the neighbours. Yes, the same flat and the same neighbours who were the origin of that six month nightmare.
Meanwhile, I hastened to see how many buckets might be required, only to find that the leak had stopped. The neighbours arrived in a state of some bemusement until Monsieur said to Madame, "Did you just water the plants?". She nodded. A simple case of an overfilled house plant pot; only damage - a couple of small damp patches on the bed cover. Phew!
A few days earlier a different sort of water was falling from above. La bienheureuse went into la petite chambre and realised there was leak coming from l'appartement au dessus. Visions of the infamous flood of 2006 came flooding back and she dashed upstairs to warn the neighbours. Yes, the same flat and the same neighbours who were the origin of that six month nightmare.
Meanwhile, I hastened to see how many buckets might be required, only to find that the leak had stopped. The neighbours arrived in a state of some bemusement until Monsieur said to Madame, "Did you just water the plants?". She nodded. A simple case of an overfilled house plant pot; only damage - a couple of small damp patches on the bed cover. Phew!
30 mai 2012
Dipping little toes
After the rain, the sunshine, which seems to have finally arrived just in time for the first sporting event of summer, the French Open. The third bank holiday weekend in May (though a mere 3-day one this time) was for the most part bathed in warm sunshine. And on Saturday, the warmest day of the year so far, it was our turn to be bathed in blissful cool water. The occasion was an invitation to a BBQ chez une amie de la bienheureuse, where we got a first try of their new pool. Given the recent weather, you'd be forgiven for suspecting the water might have been rather too cool, but some solar heating got it to a more or less bearable 23C. And with a cute little neoprene suit, it was just about warm enough for la petite nageuse, though she was none too sure about her first taste of an outdoor pool at first. And she was perfectly behaved for the rest of a very pleasant evening, obligingly going happily to bed while the rest of us ate a sumptuous barbecue feast before putting up gracefully with being woken rudely at about midnight, carted across Lyon in the car, and put to bed again.
Sunday was recovery day, which was just as well because it was the one day of the weekend when the weather was a little less beautiful. The sun and elevated temperatures were back on Pentecost Monday, which allowed another balade by bicycle along the river to the Parc de la Feyssine. Yesterday, la petite and papa were back in the old routine while maman went off to work, and today le père has a day off while la fille is downstairs, where she has settled in as though it's an extension to home, having fun with her friends and being looked after by the nounou.
The father-daughter days are indeed pretty routine at the moment. La petite coquinette regularly wakes up at 7am, give or take 15 minutes, happily goes down for two daytime naps at regular hours (circa 10am and 2pm), eats fairly willingly (albeit needing a bit of gentle persuasion from time to time) as long as she's given whatever her parents are eating and is allowed to have a go at feeding herself, be it with fingers, fork or spoon. And most of the rest of the time the petit ange plays contentedly on her own or with parent, apart from the odd occasion when she wakes up in a bad mood or tantrums are thrown as a result of frustration with not being able to do something. Dressing herself is one source of annoyance at the moment, or at least trying to. Socks, trousers and tops (not necessarily her own) just won't cooperate at the moment, and she can get very upset when they won't do as she wants. Life when you're less than fifteen months can be tough at times but, fortunately for her parents, bad moods usually pass as quickly as they arrive…
Sunday was recovery day, which was just as well because it was the one day of the weekend when the weather was a little less beautiful. The sun and elevated temperatures were back on Pentecost Monday, which allowed another balade by bicycle along the river to the Parc de la Feyssine. Yesterday, la petite and papa were back in the old routine while maman went off to work, and today le père has a day off while la fille is downstairs, where she has settled in as though it's an extension to home, having fun with her friends and being looked after by the nounou.
The father-daughter days are indeed pretty routine at the moment. La petite coquinette regularly wakes up at 7am, give or take 15 minutes, happily goes down for two daytime naps at regular hours (circa 10am and 2pm), eats fairly willingly (albeit needing a bit of gentle persuasion from time to time) as long as she's given whatever her parents are eating and is allowed to have a go at feeding herself, be it with fingers, fork or spoon. And most of the rest of the time the petit ange plays contentedly on her own or with parent, apart from the odd occasion when she wakes up in a bad mood or tantrums are thrown as a result of frustration with not being able to do something. Dressing herself is one source of annoyance at the moment, or at least trying to. Socks, trousers and tops (not necessarily her own) just won't cooperate at the moment, and she can get very upset when they won't do as she wants. Life when you're less than fifteen months can be tough at times but, fortunately for her parents, bad moods usually pass as quickly as they arrive…
23 mai 2012
Key costs
Before three days of almost continuous rain arrived, the last two days of last week were reasonably mild and sunny, which made for a pleasant start to the long Ascension bank holiday weekend. On both days we took advantage of the good weather with afternoon outings on the bicycles. On Thursday we cycled to the Parc de la Tête d'Or, a pleasant little trip, which had an undesirable ending. On returning to the garage the keeper of the keys (he that wears shorts with zip-closing pockets) searched in vain for the key. Only then did he remember that there was a hole in the particular pocket in which the key had been deposited. Oops. In my defence, the garage key is rather large and the hole rather small. Still, it had obviously slipped through somehow, and an hour spent retracing our route scanning the ground carefully was singularly fruitless.
And so the bikes accompanied us back to the apartment and were laboriously lugged up six flights of stairs. The next morning a call to a serrurier produced a reasonably prompt response and by early afternoon the garage was open. The locksmith's method of gaining access: a large screwdriver and a couple of judicious blows with a hammer. Not the most secure of lockups. Total cost of a lost key: 210 euros. Admittedly that included a replacement lock & keys, but apparently Friday counts as the weekend when it's a bridging day, hence weekend callout rates. Hmm…
Anyway, as the weather was still good my disgruntled mood was cured with another pleasant little balade à velo, further upriver this time, as far as the Parc de la Fessine, where la petite adventurière could wander far and wide without need for immediate parental intervention.
And so the bikes accompanied us back to the apartment and were laboriously lugged up six flights of stairs. The next morning a call to a serrurier produced a reasonably prompt response and by early afternoon the garage was open. The locksmith's method of gaining access: a large screwdriver and a couple of judicious blows with a hammer. Not the most secure of lockups. Total cost of a lost key: 210 euros. Admittedly that included a replacement lock & keys, but apparently Friday counts as the weekend when it's a bridging day, hence weekend callout rates. Hmm…
Anyway, as the weather was still good my disgruntled mood was cured with another pleasant little balade à velo, further upriver this time, as far as the Parc de la Fessine, where la petite adventurière could wander far and wide without need for immediate parental intervention.
22 mai 2012
Damp squibs
Unlike in England the previous weekend, the football championship in France was rather gratifying won on Sunday by minnows Montpellier, who finished three points clear of the Qatari-funded Parisians. PSG won their final game at Lorient but then had to wait half an hour for Montpellier's match at already-relegated Auxerre to finish, after irate Auxerre fans twice interrupted the match with a barrage of smoke bombs, toilet rolls and tennis balls being thrown onto the pitch. Undeterred, the relatively impoverished men from the Herault held their nerve to win 2-1 despite going behind early in the match. In French football at least, money isn't yet everything...
Meanwhile I was at Gerland in the pouring rain, being kept up to date with events elsewhere by a neighbour with a smart phone, to watch Lyon's final game end in an entertaining 4-3 defeat to Nice. Strange match, perhaps not surprisingly given that OL already knew they could finish no higher and no lower than fourth, and that Nice needed three points to be sure of avoiding relegation. It rather neatly summed up a mixed season - lowest league place for 11 years but a trophy, the French Cup. Nice hit the woodwork three times in the first twenty minutes, only to find OL making the most of their chances and going 2-0 up. An inexperienced central defence then allowed the visitors to equalise and then take the lead in the second half with a rare Lloris error. Stung into action, les gones equalised and threatened the winner only to allow the Nice centre-forward to run through all the way from his own half and score.
Back on the home front, we enjoyed a quiet first weekend in three en famille, even if the weather was mixed in the extreme. Pleasant sunshine early on Saturday afternoon enticed la bienheureuse et la petite out for a shopping trip. New stock of toys duly purchased they made for home at the same time as the heavens opened, throwing down rain, lightning and hail. Rather large hailstones at that, but rather surprisingly a flimsy umbrella protected both mes bien-aimées.
A similar story on Sunday. Warm sunshine in the morning dragged us out to the market before the rain started coming down early in the afternoon. That didn't stop la petite coquinette from fetching shoes, her way of demanding to be taken out, and her mother duly obliged. No stay-at-home girl that little one. And the rain has barely stopped since. Summer is still dragging its heels...
Meanwhile I was at Gerland in the pouring rain, being kept up to date with events elsewhere by a neighbour with a smart phone, to watch Lyon's final game end in an entertaining 4-3 defeat to Nice. Strange match, perhaps not surprisingly given that OL already knew they could finish no higher and no lower than fourth, and that Nice needed three points to be sure of avoiding relegation. It rather neatly summed up a mixed season - lowest league place for 11 years but a trophy, the French Cup. Nice hit the woodwork three times in the first twenty minutes, only to find OL making the most of their chances and going 2-0 up. An inexperienced central defence then allowed the visitors to equalise and then take the lead in the second half with a rare Lloris error. Stung into action, les gones equalised and threatened the winner only to allow the Nice centre-forward to run through all the way from his own half and score.
Back on the home front, we enjoyed a quiet first weekend in three en famille, even if the weather was mixed in the extreme. Pleasant sunshine early on Saturday afternoon enticed la bienheureuse et la petite out for a shopping trip. New stock of toys duly purchased they made for home at the same time as the heavens opened, throwing down rain, lightning and hail. Rather large hailstones at that, but rather surprisingly a flimsy umbrella protected both mes bien-aimées.
A similar story on Sunday. Warm sunshine in the morning dragged us out to the market before the rain started coming down early in the afternoon. That didn't stop la petite coquinette from fetching shoes, her way of demanding to be taken out, and her mother duly obliged. No stay-at-home girl that little one. And the rain has barely stopped since. Summer is still dragging its heels...
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…
02 mai 2012
Laboured endings
April is over, thank goodness. April showers made their final bow on Monday with a flourish - prolonged showers that merged into virtual all-day rain that is. In May the sunshine is back, albeit somewhat uncertainly, but we made the most of the dry, milder weather on the second and fourth days of the long weekend by dusting off the bikes and pumping up tyres for the first petites balades à velo for the year. La petite coquinette was a little unsure her new throne with its view of mama's derrière, but was soon smiling once we set off up and down the river. As for April ailments, they seem to be gradually alleviating too. Roll on the summer…
The end of a different type of season is almost in sight too. Olympique Lyonnais will finish a mixed football year with one trophy to show. On Saturday night they laboured to a 1-0 victory in the French Cup Final, to at least partly redeem their abject previous performance at the Stade de France. The heroic feat in defeating the amateurs of Quevilly was deemed worthy of an appearance on the balcony of the Hôtel de Ville on Sunday, where certain players got themselves into trouble by participating in anti-St Etienne chants. The league season meanwhile looks like being somewhat less rewarding, as OL remain 5th (4th if they win a game in hand), outside the Champions League qualification places, 9 points (potentially 6) behind third placed Lille, who beat second placed PSG on Sunday night. Five games to go.
The end of the political season is also close. Sarkozy's current presidential mandate comes to an end next weekend and, at the moment, he looks unlikely to be granted a second. Hollande is still ahead in the polls, and Marine Le Pen announced yesterday that she would vote blank in the next round, 'leaving it to the conscience' of her supporters on how they should vote. The consensus among political commentators seems to be that enough NF voters feel betrayed by Sarko following his election in 2007 to make it unlikely that he'll harvest enough of their support this time round. On verra…
The end of a different type of season is almost in sight too. Olympique Lyonnais will finish a mixed football year with one trophy to show. On Saturday night they laboured to a 1-0 victory in the French Cup Final, to at least partly redeem their abject previous performance at the Stade de France. The heroic feat in defeating the amateurs of Quevilly was deemed worthy of an appearance on the balcony of the Hôtel de Ville on Sunday, where certain players got themselves into trouble by participating in anti-St Etienne chants. The league season meanwhile looks like being somewhat less rewarding, as OL remain 5th (4th if they win a game in hand), outside the Champions League qualification places, 9 points (potentially 6) behind third placed Lille, who beat second placed PSG on Sunday night. Five games to go.
The end of the political season is also close. Sarkozy's current presidential mandate comes to an end next weekend and, at the moment, he looks unlikely to be granted a second. Hollande is still ahead in the polls, and Marine Le Pen announced yesterday that she would vote blank in the next round, 'leaving it to the conscience' of her supporters on how they should vote. The consensus among political commentators seems to be that enough NF voters feel betrayed by Sarko following his election in 2007 to make it unlikely that he'll harvest enough of their support this time round. On verra…
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