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...
25 avril 2012
17 avril 2012
Crying foul
Foul weather - 4pm Saturday: rain starts spitting down and doesn't stop for 36 hours. Undeterred by the cold and gloomy conditions, we stroll out and blow a monkey on a new bike and child seat. La petite coquinette charms bystanders and looks cute in a helmet.
Foul match - 11.45pm Saturday: 58 fouls - the total number of free kicks at the French League Cup final. To cap it all, I stay up and watch all 120 dire minutes of the worst match in football history, only to see Lyon contrive to lose the Olympique battle of attrition to an extra time Marseille goal.
Foul odour - 4.30am Sunday: little more than four hours after I've gone to bed, we're woken by the sound of crying from the nursery. Not the normal, brief waking whinge la petite sometimes makes, something more prolonged and serious. I draw the short straw and take the first shift at settling her back down. Half an hour and two abortive attempts to put her back in bed later, I finally catch a smelly whiff and cotton on to the reason for her discomfort. After the nappy change, la bienheureuse takes over to allow me to collapse back into bed. Four hours later, the small bundle of energy finally agrees to go back to sleep, and both exhausted parents snatch another hour or two themselves.
Foul mood - 11pm Monday: the rain finally stops sometime in the early hours, but temperatures fail to climb above 6C the rest of the day. And we thought winter had ended 6 weeks ago. The biting Mistral slices through la petite and I when we venture out late afternoon and the rain starts spotting down again. To put the rotten cherry on the 3 day old cake, les cannoniers blow the chance to consolidate 3rd by losing at home to the 4th bottom team. At least the lowly Latics play decent football.
Foul health - 6.30am Tuesday: new wakeup time, on the dot la petite starts yodelling. Her parents groan, both still afflicted by the colds that have lingered for weeks, fouling the nasal, bronchial, tracheal and, in maman's case, aural passages. La bienheureuse still manages to drag herself out of bed to feed the little munchkin, who fortunately seems to have mostly regained her previous good health and humour.
Foul match - 11.45pm Saturday: 58 fouls - the total number of free kicks at the French League Cup final. To cap it all, I stay up and watch all 120 dire minutes of the worst match in football history, only to see Lyon contrive to lose the Olympique battle of attrition to an extra time Marseille goal.
Foul odour - 4.30am Sunday: little more than four hours after I've gone to bed, we're woken by the sound of crying from the nursery. Not the normal, brief waking whinge la petite sometimes makes, something more prolonged and serious. I draw the short straw and take the first shift at settling her back down. Half an hour and two abortive attempts to put her back in bed later, I finally catch a smelly whiff and cotton on to the reason for her discomfort. After the nappy change, la bienheureuse takes over to allow me to collapse back into bed. Four hours later, the small bundle of energy finally agrees to go back to sleep, and both exhausted parents snatch another hour or two themselves.
Foul mood - 11pm Monday: the rain finally stops sometime in the early hours, but temperatures fail to climb above 6C the rest of the day. And we thought winter had ended 6 weeks ago. The biting Mistral slices through la petite and I when we venture out late afternoon and the rain starts spotting down again. To put the rotten cherry on the 3 day old cake, les cannoniers blow the chance to consolidate 3rd by losing at home to the 4th bottom team. At least the lowly Latics play decent football.
Foul health - 6.30am Tuesday: new wakeup time, on the dot la petite starts yodelling. Her parents groan, both still afflicted by the colds that have lingered for weeks, fouling the nasal, bronchial, tracheal and, in maman's case, aural passages. La bienheureuse still manages to drag herself out of bed to feed the little munchkin, who fortunately seems to have mostly regained her previous good health and humour.
14 avril 2012
Final stretch
Four important weekends in the life of les lyonnais coming up: today in Paris OL play in the League Cup final against that other Olympique team, Marseille. Two weeks later they return to the Stade de France for the French Cup final against Norman minnows Quevilly. Two trophies would somewhat redeem the season for les gones, though no chickens are being counted yet. OM might be in a dreadful run of form, but they are still Marseille. And Quevilly might be in a league two levels lower than Lyon, but they are no mugs, having already beaten Marseille & Rennes and previously reached the semi-finals of the French Cup two years ago. OL beat another Ligue National team, Ajaccio, in a somewhat stormy mid-week semi-final amid a hostile atmosphere on the Île de Beauté, with several bad-tempered confrontations following a red card for one of the Corsicans, and OL striker Gomis allegedly subject to racist chants. A less than comfortable 4-0 win was the end result.
Meanwhile, in the political arena, campaigning for the first round of the presidential election is almost into its final week, with the second round two weeks later. There's little doubt it will be a UMP vs PS final, with polls still showing Sarkozy and Hollande more or less neck and neck in the first round, well ahead of the battle for third place between the far left (Melenchon) and extreme right (Le Pen fille). And Hollande is still apparently just ahead in the final play off. On verra…
Meanwhile, in the political arena, campaigning for the first round of the presidential election is almost into its final week, with the second round two weeks later. There's little doubt it will be a UMP vs PS final, with polls still showing Sarkozy and Hollande more or less neck and neck in the first round, well ahead of the battle for third place between the far left (Melenchon) and extreme right (Le Pen fille). And Hollande is still apparently just ahead in the final play off. On verra…
09 avril 2012
Upswing, down river
Seems two weeks of toddler grouchiness was probably brought on by feeling under the weather and teething. No different to adults then, apart from tooth problems being caused by them falling out or going rotten rather than growing. Anyway, la petite suddenly went from being a grumpy little monster to a sweet little angel in the space of 24 hours, the same day she was finally clear of illness and a seventh tooth made an appearance. However, cold number two has already started to snuffle its way through the nasal passages, so the good behaviour may not last long…
Out in the wider Lyonnais world, the big event of the Easter weekend was the opening of the new Confluence shopping and entertainment centre, part of the latest grand project in Lyon, the renovation of formerly derelict warehouses and docks at the southern tip of the Presqu'île where the Saône and Rhône rivers merge. We wandered out on Saturday to look at some of the festivities to mark the grand opening, including a float with water jets and mime artists on a giant umbrella on the Rhône, a flotilla of strange water craft (cars, beds, desert islands and giant hexapods topped by animal skulls) on the Saône, and a parade with a stuffed polar bear, marching bands and assorted strange machines in Place Bellecour.
Later in the evening I headed downriver again to Gerland, where OL eked out a turgid 2-1 victory against bottom club Auxerre thanks to two penalties earned and converted by Lisandro. The footballing entertainment on offer the following day was of rather higher quality, at least from the home team. The highly satisfying late victory against the oil-money wasting light blue Mancunians was preceded by a seven hour train journey across France and under the Channel, leaving just enough time for a quick pre-match pint in the pub with fellow gooners, grand et petite, who had just enjoyed an epicurean Easter lunch.
After the match we went our separate ways. I strolled north to chez the McBhoy and la Palombe, my hosts for the night. Turkish dinner was on the Sugar Lounge menu in the evening, followed by Match of the Day, sleep and an unaccustomed lie-in. Then it was time for me to make my way homeward through the London rain via tea-purchasing duties at Tescos, a crowded St Pancras, Eurostar, a time-pressed trip across Paris and a Lyon bound TGV caught with two minutes to spare. But all was well that ended well, and I was home little more than 5 hours after leaving London.
Out in the wider Lyonnais world, the big event of the Easter weekend was the opening of the new Confluence shopping and entertainment centre, part of the latest grand project in Lyon, the renovation of formerly derelict warehouses and docks at the southern tip of the Presqu'île where the Saône and Rhône rivers merge. We wandered out on Saturday to look at some of the festivities to mark the grand opening, including a float with water jets and mime artists on a giant umbrella on the Rhône, a flotilla of strange water craft (cars, beds, desert islands and giant hexapods topped by animal skulls) on the Saône, and a parade with a stuffed polar bear, marching bands and assorted strange machines in Place Bellecour.
After the match we went our separate ways. I strolled north to chez the McBhoy and la Palombe, my hosts for the night. Turkish dinner was on the Sugar Lounge menu in the evening, followed by Match of the Day, sleep and an unaccustomed lie-in. Then it was time for me to make my way homeward through the London rain via tea-purchasing duties at Tescos, a crowded St Pancras, Eurostar, a time-pressed trip across Paris and a Lyon bound TGV caught with two minutes to spare. But all was well that ended well, and I was home little more than 5 hours after leaving London.
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…
21 mars 2012
Teary eyed
So, the first 12 months: virtually no health problems. So far, two weeks into the unlucky 13th month: running total up to two illnesses already. The cold of the first week was swiftly followed by conjunctivitis in the second week. Not nice, and getting antibiotic drops into the tightly closed eyes of a screaming, struggling toddler is no easy task. She's somewhat off her food and more easily moved to tears than normal, but most of the time shrugs off the discomfort like the brave little soldier she is.
She was perfectly behaved when we took her out for dinner on Saturday evening, the day the infection became evident. The occasion was the fiftieth birthday of a friend of la bienheureuse. Our rheumy-eyed little girl wowed the dinner party guests before being put to bed in the travel cot upstairs. No complaints then and only good humour when we woke her up soon after midnight for the journey home. Very pleasant evening overall, even if the foie gras took about 2 days to digest, but perhaps it was the following night that we three suffered. Three times mama & papa had to get up to comfort la petite malade. Monday morning was hard, and despite a subsequent undisturbed night, Tuesday was even tougher for la travailleuse as she was awake at six to set off for a three day trip to Milan.
More tears shed in the wider world, following the shocking murders in Toulouse. Hard to avoid the feeling that they were of the crocodile variety from some politicians in particular, with the presidential campaign being overshadowed. The candidates all declared a 'ceasefire' in campaigning, which seemed a rather hollow promise as they all promptly made appearances designed to keep profiles as high as possible. And now the supposed killer has been found, having been forced to keep fairly quiet by initial suspicions that the perpetrator was of a similar far-right persuasion, Mme Le Pen has been quick to try and turn events to her advantage. It's going to be a long 32 days…
In Lyon the rubbish isn't just political. The real stuff hasn't quite piled up and putrefied enough to bring tears to the eyes, but it won't be long. La grève des eboueurs is into its tenth day and no end yet in sight. And the warm sunny weather is back after a brief return to seasonal temperatures and our first rainy day in weeks…
She was perfectly behaved when we took her out for dinner on Saturday evening, the day the infection became evident. The occasion was the fiftieth birthday of a friend of la bienheureuse. Our rheumy-eyed little girl wowed the dinner party guests before being put to bed in the travel cot upstairs. No complaints then and only good humour when we woke her up soon after midnight for the journey home. Very pleasant evening overall, even if the foie gras took about 2 days to digest, but perhaps it was the following night that we three suffered. Three times mama & papa had to get up to comfort la petite malade. Monday morning was hard, and despite a subsequent undisturbed night, Tuesday was even tougher for la travailleuse as she was awake at six to set off for a three day trip to Milan.
More tears shed in the wider world, following the shocking murders in Toulouse. Hard to avoid the feeling that they were of the crocodile variety from some politicians in particular, with the presidential campaign being overshadowed. The candidates all declared a 'ceasefire' in campaigning, which seemed a rather hollow promise as they all promptly made appearances designed to keep profiles as high as possible. And now the supposed killer has been found, having been forced to keep fairly quiet by initial suspicions that the perpetrator was of a similar far-right persuasion, Mme Le Pen has been quick to try and turn events to her advantage. It's going to be a long 32 days…
In Lyon the rubbish isn't just political. The real stuff hasn't quite piled up and putrefied enough to bring tears to the eyes, but it won't be long. La grève des eboueurs is into its tenth day and no end yet in sight. And the warm sunny weather is back after a brief return to seasonal temperatures and our first rainy day in weeks…
14 mars 2012
Quietly busy
Wednesday, mid afternoon, my time is my own. More or less. La petite coquinette is spending her second day (first full one) downstairs with her young neighbours and la nourrice. Dropped her off this morning and sidled out when she wasn't looking. All has been quiet since, even when I stopped briefly on the landing to wistfully listen on my way in and out of the building. No doubt I'll wean myself off that eventually.
Not that I've been twiddling my thumbs and pining (not too much, anyway). Notice of a £100 penalty from HM Revenue & Customs for failing to file a tax return in time saw to that. Fined for neglecting to inform them that they owe me money for the last tax year seems a bit unfair, that's the UK tax office for you. A phone conversation with a distinctly unsympathetic Geordie jobsworth informed me that I had no choice but to pay and appeal. 'Rules is rules' apparently, so a letter of appeal is already on its way across the Channel. Don't hold your breath…
Another bit of paperwork out of the way is a letter to the Syndic (our building management company) to accompany the cheque for the latest charges, pointing out that last year's AGM still hasn't been called yet (technically due within the first 3 months of the year), and that the last set of accounts approved dates back to 2009. I politely asked them not to cash the cheque until the AGM has been held and the previous years' accounts closed. Not holding my breath on that one either.
The weather in Lyon continues to be fine. It was sunny over the weekend but rather breezy. The pushchair was almost blown over during a walk along the river and into the park on Sunday, and watching OL end a 4 game run without a win (including the limp exit from the Champions League in Cyprus last week) against Lille on Saturday evening was rendered a rather chilly experience with the Mistral whistling through Gerland. Today the wind has dropped and temperatures up into the 20s, where they are forecast to remain for the next few days, which might have the whole city holding its breath and noses soon because the bin men are on strike in protesting at the privatisation of the service. Not sure how effective the strike will be with the council bringing in interim workers to collect rubbish, but then that's only going to harden the attitude of the unions…
On the wider political stage, with the countdown to the presidential election now below forty days, the various drama queens are all warming up nicely. Front National candidate, Le Pen fille, now has her 500 nominations. One suspects the FN was merely making political capital out her of potentially being prevented from standing for president, although one political commentator on TV reckoned it was the ruling UMP party deliberately making her sweat by withholding permission for local maires to sign her nomination until the last moment. Meanwhile le president-candidat himself has been trying on more and more of Madame Le Pen's clothes in a bid to drain support from the far right, a tactic which has made up some ground but so far not enough. A recent poll put him ahead in the first round, but still losing the second round to Hollande.
Not that I've been twiddling my thumbs and pining (not too much, anyway). Notice of a £100 penalty from HM Revenue & Customs for failing to file a tax return in time saw to that. Fined for neglecting to inform them that they owe me money for the last tax year seems a bit unfair, that's the UK tax office for you. A phone conversation with a distinctly unsympathetic Geordie jobsworth informed me that I had no choice but to pay and appeal. 'Rules is rules' apparently, so a letter of appeal is already on its way across the Channel. Don't hold your breath…
Another bit of paperwork out of the way is a letter to the Syndic (our building management company) to accompany the cheque for the latest charges, pointing out that last year's AGM still hasn't been called yet (technically due within the first 3 months of the year), and that the last set of accounts approved dates back to 2009. I politely asked them not to cash the cheque until the AGM has been held and the previous years' accounts closed. Not holding my breath on that one either.
The weather in Lyon continues to be fine. It was sunny over the weekend but rather breezy. The pushchair was almost blown over during a walk along the river and into the park on Sunday, and watching OL end a 4 game run without a win (including the limp exit from the Champions League in Cyprus last week) against Lille on Saturday evening was rendered a rather chilly experience with the Mistral whistling through Gerland. Today the wind has dropped and temperatures up into the 20s, where they are forecast to remain for the next few days, which might have the whole city holding its breath and noses soon because the bin men are on strike in protesting at the privatisation of the service. Not sure how effective the strike will be with the council bringing in interim workers to collect rubbish, but then that's only going to harden the attitude of the unions…
On the wider political stage, with the countdown to the presidential election now below forty days, the various drama queens are all warming up nicely. Front National candidate, Le Pen fille, now has her 500 nominations. One suspects the FN was merely making political capital out her of potentially being prevented from standing for president, although one political commentator on TV reckoned it was the ruling UMP party deliberately making her sweat by withholding permission for local maires to sign her nomination until the last moment. Meanwhile le president-candidat himself has been trying on more and more of Madame Le Pen's clothes in a bid to drain support from the far right, a tactic which has made up some ground but so far not enough. A recent poll put him ahead in the first round, but still losing the second round to Hollande.
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 février 2012
Tottering
The big freeze is over. Maximum daytime temperatures finally crept above freezing on Monday, and minimum temperatures followed suit on Wednesday. Two full weeks of sub-zero temperatures apparently made it the fifth most severe cold snap since 1947, witness the Saône freezing over. Now we are back to normal, cold, dull February weather. Spring still seems a long way away.
It was so cold over the weekend that most Ligue 1 football matches were brought forward from evening to afternoon. It was still perishingly chilly at Gerland at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, where I shivered in a half empty stadium watching Lyon stumble to a 2-1 home defeat against Caen, a team just above the relegation zone. On Valentine's night it was a mild 2C with snow on the ground when I left my two true loves at home and repeated the trip to watch les gones play Apoel Nicosia in the Champions league. One goal was the sum total of 90 minutes of attack vs defence. The UEFA statistics on the big screen kept a running score of shots on goal; OL's total steadily increased to about 20 by the end of the match while the number in the visiting team's column remained stuck on zero until the 89th minute when Lloris was finally called on, and had to make a good save at that. I suspect the return match in Cyprus may be a little more difficult. At least Lyon have a good chance of making the last eight, something that can't be said for my third true love, but I'll skate quickly over that subject.
My little sweetheart is making great strides at the moment. Or, more accurately, small unsteady steps. However she now frequently tries to walk when going from A to B and can totter along upright for a good 7 or 8 steps.
Another small person tottering on the brink is Nicolas Sarkozy. On Tuesday we had confirmation that he would officially announce that he would be running for president the following evening. And on prime time Wednesday night TV the confirmation of the confirmation was finally delivered. He said he'd been considering standing for several weeks. Hmm, several years surely, Monsieur le Président…
It was so cold over the weekend that most Ligue 1 football matches were brought forward from evening to afternoon. It was still perishingly chilly at Gerland at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, where I shivered in a half empty stadium watching Lyon stumble to a 2-1 home defeat against Caen, a team just above the relegation zone. On Valentine's night it was a mild 2C with snow on the ground when I left my two true loves at home and repeated the trip to watch les gones play Apoel Nicosia in the Champions league. One goal was the sum total of 90 minutes of attack vs defence. The UEFA statistics on the big screen kept a running score of shots on goal; OL's total steadily increased to about 20 by the end of the match while the number in the visiting team's column remained stuck on zero until the 89th minute when Lloris was finally called on, and had to make a good save at that. I suspect the return match in Cyprus may be a little more difficult. At least Lyon have a good chance of making the last eight, something that can't be said for my third true love, but I'll skate quickly over that subject.
My little sweetheart is making great strides at the moment. Or, more accurately, small unsteady steps. However she now frequently tries to walk when going from A to B and can totter along upright for a good 7 or 8 steps.
Another small person tottering on the brink is Nicolas Sarkozy. On Tuesday we had confirmation that he would officially announce that he would be running for president the following evening. And on prime time Wednesday night TV the confirmation of the confirmation was finally delivered. He said he'd been considering standing for several weeks. Hmm, several years surely, Monsieur le Président…
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