Maxime is born

Just in case there are still people checking this after months of absence, our gorgeous boy, Maxime was born on 2nd January at 3.35am after a mammoth 35-hour labour. He weighed 3.4kg and measured 51cm.

Here ends my blog, I just don't feel like doing it anymore.

Love to you all xxx

Oh mamma!

So I have decided it is time to stop hiding and talk about my pregnancy online. Yes, I'm with child, have been for some time now, but for some reason I have not wanted to share this with the online world. At first it was for fear of something going wrong, as is a risk before 3 months, but now that I'm in my 22nd week and everything is going smoothly, there seems to be no reason to keep it in the dark.

The first three months were peppered with nausea and trying to keep the information under wraps. It was so hard for me, and I have to admit that it slipped out during a conversation or two with doctors at work.

The first scan went well and while I didn't understand all the medical elements in French, I noted the words "normal" and "absence d'anomalies" and they reassured us that things were progressing nicely.

I'm really enjoying the pregnancy now, I'm well into maternity clothes, the bump is obvious to people and I don't just look fatter, and best of all, the nausea has subsided. For some strange reason I still can't stomach lettuce, but everything else is fine. I'm hoping it'll keep going like that, but I know from the advice of others that by the middle of the 7th month I'm going to be more like a beached whale than a woman with a nice rounded little bump.

So today is the moment of truth, we find out if we're going to be dealing with a franglais or a fraglaise. I don't know what to hope for, I know how to talk to little girls, but boys later I think are easier to deal with. We'll see...

May

France in May is a wonderful festival of long weekends, less work and better weather. This year the month has been nothing less. No less than four of the five weekends included in the month this year have been long weekends of some kind, whether it has been the Friday, the Monday or the Thursday, offering that elusive chance to take a "pont" or a "bridge" and take four days off for the price of one.

This year I tried to go one better and took the Wednesday as well as the Thurs and Fri; I suppose my bridge was closer to the Manhattan bridge rather than the Pont Neuf. I didn't go anywhere in particular for the whole time, but I did spend a really fun afternoon at Roland Garros, a few days before the beginning of the official competition.

In blazing sunlight my friend M and I took seats at three different tennis matches to watch various upcoming stars battle it out for a chance to compete in the world-famous French Open. The competition proper hadn't begun yet, these players were just trying to get into the first round. Despite the scope of my tennis knowledge being limited to very basic scoring and virtually no knowledge of current players, I have to say that the standard was amazing.

This weekend G and I are off to Istanbul for a spot of mosque-visiting, Bosphorus-sailing and no doubt dodgy kebab-eating. More news soon...

It's All Relative

I'm stretched out listening to a wonderful selection of Sondheim on fantastic new Spotify, and musing over the last weekend, life and the various choices we make.

My aunt, uncle and parents came to visit this weekend; they have just left, and we had a really lovely time. I think it took some pressure off, having my aunt and uncle there as well, I didn't feel obliged to spend every single minute with my parents and I knew they were having a good time. Everything was a discovery for my aunt and uncle; they had been to Paris over 20 years ago on an organised tour and things were a lot different then.

Seeing my life through their eyes made me realise that first of all I'm so very lucky to live in such a beautiful city. Second, that even though I see going down to the market and getting choucroûte and a bit of nice bread for Sunday lunch as a bit of a chore, they see it as a fascinating adventure because it is in Paris, and everything is new and different.

I have to admit to eyeing Lola's non-stop world with a pair of green eyes from time to time, knowing that she is often out in the evenings with her scores of friends, enjoying 30°C heat most of the year, and being in such an exotic environment, but I rarely see my own life as particularly exciting.

Seeing my daily routine in the eyes of other people makes me realise that yes, Paris IS fascinating, it is big and it is jam-packed full of history and monuments. Crossing the square in front of the Hôtel de Ville is a route from A to B for me, but with my family it was a discovery of intricate architecture, amazing lighting and a busier public space than they had seen for months.

The dinner we enjoyed at Les Ombres was no less impressive. We had a table right at the front of the restaurant, looking over to the Eiffel Tower, that sparkled 9 times during our 3-hour tasting menu (my mum counted). The food really was delicious, the view spectacular and the evening extremely enjoyable.

What I'm saying is that everything is relative, some people live in a whirlwind, some in a calm breeze, but wherever you live it is important to appreciate your life for what it is, because so many people are so much worse off than you.

Rhino-pharyngite

My head is swimming, sinuses are throbbing and I have one nostril blocked. Lovely. In fact I'm fine, just suffering from a bout of the common cold, but if you believed the French I'm dealing not with a simple virus that I caught from some other poor sufferer, but the after-effects of going out without a scarf in less than 30°C heat, perhaps not closing the window at the slightest breeze, or worse still, having an open-buttoned shirt before June 21st.

Also, this mere hiccough in my otherwise perfect health is not even called a cold, more often than not they call it a "rhino-pharyngite" which sounds much worse.

Anyway, I'm fine, just a little more tired than usual and a little more nasal than usual, but nothing a nice sunny weekend won't cure.

The sun has been getting out his hat and popping it on for the last few days now, and today is no exception. I'm in Chablis, typing away on my keyboard with the sun shining down on the little river outside my window. I have to say that it's very peaceful.

My parents, aunt and uncle are descending on Paris this weekend, and I'm looking forward to seeing them. It'll be nice for them to have a touristy weekend that doesn't revolve around purely visiting me. I've booked a great restaurant for Saturday evening with a wonderful glass ceiling and stunning view of the iron lady herself. Apparently her lighting has been redesigned temporarily and now she doesn't sparkle only on the hour, but responds to a specific programme that has been designed for her, from now until early May apparently.

So, I'm hoping to be snot-free by Saturday evening so that I can actually taste some of the goodies that will placed in front of me.

Achoo! Sorry, just have a to go and get a tissue...

Unexpected Song II

When my friend M put a video up on facebook of some woman singing "I Dreamed a Dream", I thought it would be like any other amazing new talent, belting out the "sha-a-a-a-me" with a neverending diphthong in true Ruthie Henshall style. And yes, of course all the shiny new talents are good, but it gets depressing after a while.
So I clicked on the video expecting to just reply "oh yes, great". Then I saw this frumpy woman totter onto the stage and I thought it must be some kind of joke, that she would be really bad. The cruel wicked side of us all that enjoys seeing people in pain reared its head, and I sat through the introductory blah blah and waited for those first bars to come.
What I heard coming from that woman was a million miles from the bumpkin Scottish accent and neglected eyebrow combover that my eyes were deceiving me with. Her voice was magical, and not just taking her look into account, her voice was truly sensational. She could have been dressed in a full skirt and lace-up corset with an ashen face and dirty fingernails and passed for a very credible Fantine on any stage in the world. Admittedly I had to struggle to see past the eyebrows, but that voice really was unbelievable.

I wonder if I would have been so bowled over if she had been a younger, more attractive woman, with shaped eyebrows and flowing hair? I think not. I think I was so impressed because she looked like any other menopausal woman who helps out at her local church. And I'm truly ashamed of my reaction. Let's hope from now on that competitions like Britain's Got Talent really do root out the talent, and are not simply a showcase of blonde locks and bronze muscles.

Unexpected Song

I was just shamed into reacting like everyone else when this video came to my attention today from the lovely M.

Please, just watch a few seconds and don't judge by appearances.

Sunny days in the country

I can't believe it's been over a month since I wrote anything of even minor interest on here. I've been following the lovely Lola on her footpath to love, working, to-ing and fro-ing to the country and I have been mightily neglecting my cyber-diary.

Perhaps this is because things are happening that I don't want to broadcast just yet, but also that to be honest, there really isn't a great deal to broadcast.

I'm doing the Paris - Chablis forward / back thing every week now, and when I get on the train on a Wednesday evening at Bercy station I'm realising that it's easier and easier as time goes by. Life in the village is so different from life in the city, especially the cultural hub and hotbed of romanticism and activity that is Paris. Still, it's actually starting to be enjoyable to get away from it all for two days a week and ensconce myself in the upstairs office at the domain, hiding away from the hustle and bustle of city living and adding a few more weeks to my life expectancy by avoiding the omnipresent fumes typical of a working day in the city of lights.

And to add a rather juicy cherry to the cake, yesterday evening G and I actually went to someone's house in the village for a drink! I was disproportionately excited by the prospect of going out for the evening in Chablis, as it is such a rare occurence. The lovely man who painted our house here bumped into G in the street yesterday and asked us over for an apéritif.

I had one of the best evenings I've had in a long time, meeting new people and putting the world to rights as the French love to do with their hearty debates. To add another dash of surprise there was an English guy there too! I couldn't have imagined that there would be another English person of about my age in such a small secluded village. Anyway, it also turns out that there's yet another English person here too, a girl of about my age who loves to sing! Not that I necessarily favour English company over French, but it is a comfort to know that there are fellow citizens around who have made a life for themselves here. If they can do it, so can I!

I came back home feeling really optimistic and readier than I have ever felt to abandon my beloved Paris existence and try out life in the countryside. For the moment nothing is changing, but if events shape themselves differently, it wouldn't be as hard as I had thought to leave my monthly métro pass on the shelf and reach for my wax jacket and wellies!

25 Things

The lovely Lola recently posted her "25 things" from Facebook, a list of sometimes lesser known facts about herself. This has been doing the rounds on the world's favourite internet community site, so I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon as usual and post mine too:

1. I love changing my hair, sometimes curly, sometimes straight. I always get bored with whatever style I keep for too long. It's naturally straight.

2. I hate pets, and dogs in particular. Even 'nice' dogs, yes, even your nice dog.

3. I live a double life - in a renovated pigeon loft in Chablis and a flat in Paris, half the week in one place half the week in the other. No, I haven't moved to Chablis forever yet.

4. My man makes the best wine on the planet.

5. Last year I visited 6 different countries.

6. I try to be ecological at home, but sometimes it doesn't make any difference (see n°5).

7. As I grow up, I'm trying to calm down and do less.

8. I have sung weekly in some sort of geeky choir for the last 21 years of my life.

9. I sang in a rock band for 3 years.

10. I have never, ever, considered myself as a 'cool' person. Quite the opposite.

11. The credit crunch is starting to hit me.

12. I want to have two or three children, one day.

13. I'm scared of balloons, especially a children + dog balloon scenario. Worst nightmare.

14. I'm far too sensitive and get upset about things I have no control over.

15. I hardly ever do email chain forwards or quizzes like this, but here's an exception.

16. I cry easily (adverts, national anthems, people winning races, young children reading, babies smiling, professional problems, singing songs)

17. I think about the future on a daily, if not hourly basis and project myself 5, 10 years into the future. I've always done it, it never works out like you think it will, and it's absolutely useless.

18. I have extended eyelashes thanks to a wonderful spa in Hong Kong.

19. I am practically bilingual in French but still can't remember what is 'le' and what is 'la'.

20. I cry with laughter at Bill Bryson, Stephen Fry and Victoria Wood.

21. I hate paperwork and procedures with a great passion, and love teaching with an equally great passion.

22. I am a qualified SCUBA diver.

23. My favourite food is truffle, the mushroom kind, but I can't afford to eat it more than a couple of times a year.

24. I played the violin and saxophone at school, with great gusto, but now can't tell one end of an instrument from the other.

25. I can't go for a day without checking my Facebook page.

Tour Eiffel

Just a very short post to say read the lovely Lola's blog because it's fabulous.

Also, I'm rather excited because very soon my lovely G is whisking me off to the Jules Verne restaurant in the Eiffel Tower for my birthday (it was last week). The restaurant has great reviews on Trip Advisor, and I'm very much looking forward to the view as well!

Bon appétit!

A Night at the Races

Hong Kong is famous for many things, its political history, SARS, its international business reputation, but one of my best experiences in the big lychee was a night at the races. Happy Valley racecourse is just near to Lola's flat, and so it was just a short walk to all the excitement. This racecourse is one the few (if not the only one) racecourses in the world to be situated inside a city on prime real estate. At Happy Valley races you can admire the city skyline and watch the horses at the same time.

We arrived in time for the second race, and I insisted on placing a bet for it. Checking out the stats in a rather clueless manner, I decided to place a 200HK $ bet (about 20€) on the favourite to come in 1st, 2nd or 3rd place. As it happened, my horse won, and I would have raked in a lot more than my 650HK$ if I had backed him to win. Still, horses for courses, I was very happy with my first time bet and first time win!

My luck ran out after that, and my two subsequent 100HK$ bets didn't come out winners or placed in the top three. I stopped before I broke even, so I came away on top and very pleased with myself. Lola had a conf call to take later, so I stayed on and enjoyed a bowl of pork and noodles that was more delicious than I expected.

Hong Kong races proved to be really exciting and the evening was packed full of interesting things, watching the Chinese place their bets for horse after horse and coming away with literally hundreds of betting slips was unbelievable. It didn't seem to be a social occasion for them, not like the gathering of ex-pats (mostly Brits) round the beer tents next to the track. I could have been at Ascot (minus the funny hats).

It's amazing to think I spent 18 years living in Doncaster and never once set foot at the St Leger, and I travel 6000 miles to back my first horse...the brown one is my winner!

Hong Kong Adventure

I just got back from a truly fabulous week in Hong Kong. I was visiting Lola (not her real name), lovely Lola who has been I would say my best friend for the last ten years at least. We went to university together, we went to Paris at more or less the same time, and we are both ex-patriates (although not in the rather nice financial sense of the word), living in foreign countries, inadvertently distancing ourselves further and further from our homeland as time goes by.

Lola has been in HK for two years now, and seems to be very happy there. She has a full circle of friends, a gorgeous apartment with a fantastic view and an energetic lifestyle (BBC aside).

The city of Hong Kong is unlike any other I have ever visited. I had never even set foot in Asia before. The first thing that struck me was the Chinese symbols everywhere, totally incomprehensible to me. I thought about the Chinese who visit Europe with no idea of our alphabet, it must be practically impossible to decipher anything. If I had been left to the Chinese symbols I would still be in the arrivals hall today.

Hong Kong is a city of wonders. There is the breathtaking Manhattan-style skyline, the traditional Chinese restaurants with indecipherable menus, the swarms of people everywhere, and the enormous variety of smells that hit you on every corner. Dim-sum being prepared for brunch, noodles cooking in enormous pots for lunch, and succulent roasted duck. But it's not all Chinese food, Hong Kong has a huge choice of restaurants, and while I was there I sampled Japanese, Italian, Indian and of course Chinese.

The highlight of the stay for me was dinner at Aqua; a restaurant and bar on the 30th floor of a Kowloon office building, looking right onto Hong Kong island. The view is simply stunning and I couldn't take my eyes off it for the first twenty minutes of being there.

More on bargaining in Shenzhen, eyelash extensions, winning at the races and expeditions to other parts of the island coming soon...

A look back

In a blatant act of plagiarism I would like to take a look back over a year in the life of Paris lights, and I'm sure Lola won't mind too much...

January
The new year gets off to a great start in NYC, with a St Sylvester spent on a Hell's Kitchen rooftop, amid much champagne and fireworks.
A 31st birthday follows, still on the NYC theme, with a cocktail evening. G's birthday also falls this month, and a surprise trip to see him in Chablis is thwarted by his unexpected return to Paris, and a fantastic meal at Le Trou Gascon rounds off the day.

February
Return to normal working days with a vengeance, and I apply to begin working part-time in March. Application is successful and I begin researching independent business law in France - crazy wild child that I am. Valentine's goes by unnoticed.
Bonnie our choir director announces that she's leaving us in September for a year in Cambodia. Panic ensues then new directors climb aboard.

March
Spring brings with it work, work, work, but for no money as yet. Lots of paperwork, no invoices made as yet... Officially begin 3-day teaching week and love the extra time to do my own thing, even if it does involve trips to the URSSAF.
My sister asks me to be Chloe's godmother for her christening in May, I accept very gladly and begin to wonder about the responsibilities that go with it. Trip to Lyon to visit friends from Paris, cold and rainy in Lyon but the quenelles were delicious.

April
The Mumblers' drummer decides that enough is enough and I agree wholeheartedly. Secretly quite glad of a chance to stop the group while things are going well.
Make internal promise to self to go to Chablis more often.

May
Trip to Ile de Ré and Bordeaux with G, five tranquil days together away from hustle and bustle of city. Hire bikes, go wine tasting, spend really lovely holiday.
Day trip on train and coach to one of France's dullest cities, Clermont Ferrand, for 1 day of practice and a concert.
Another short trip to the UK for my niece's christening where I play the only slightly demanding but highly prized role of Godmother.
High excitement as first two translation jobs come in.

Second holiday of the month; a week in Provence with niece, sister, brother-in-law, auntie, uncle, mum, dad, grandma, and brother-in-law's parents. Stay in beautiful house owned by an ex-student of mine, and current friend of my parents.

June
Work begins coming in thick and fast and I can't quite believe that my first client payment comes through. Great joy in seeing those first figures appear in my brand new professional bank account.
Mumblers gig for a wedding celebration that seemed to fall rather flat; hesitant guests attempting to eat their foie gras while we rock on to Tina Turner and the Beatles... We do our final gig for the Fête de la musique 2008, with a 100-strong street audience and I feel glad to put down the mic for a few months at least.
A visit from the parents is much enjoyed, with a vélib experience and dinner at the fabulous Hélène Darroze restaurant.

July
Highlight of the year is a trip to Anguilla for an epicurean week of gastronomic delights. Six chefs and six wine producers (including G) are invited for a week of cooking and drinking for overly wealthy Brits and Americans. We spend an incredible week in lap of luxury enjoying 5-course meals by candlelight in the company of entrepreneurs, business directors, horse-owners and New York lawyers. We enjoy 4 days of diving on wrecks, reefs and in currents, I come home with an ear infection and a burning desire for plain pasta with grated cheese.

August
3 weeks vacation is imposed on me in August, that I use to spend time in our new house in Chablis. Restoration and building works are finished and we concentrate on picking out rugs, curtains and coffee tables. Translation business booms and I try to balance that and spending time with G in our country enclave. A visit from my sister and her family is blessed with beautiful sunshine and a memorable sun-soaked dip in G's uncle's pool.
Spoiled again with a trip to the UK for a great friend's wedding, and a trip to Warsaw with my parents. Very interesting city with a beautiful old town and fascinating communist bloc-style architecture in the new town.

September
After a brief but extremely enjoyable trip to Stockholm for a wine fair, it's back to work with a vengeance in the autumn as the rentrée takes up all my energy.

October
Lots of jetting about this month as there are two weddings to go to. One in London that requires a simple Eurostar trip, but another in Boston. I have a highly lucky and much appreciated business-class flight to the States on standby, that is (again, very luckily) repeated for the return journey. Both weddings absolutely stunning, with beautiful brides and colourful confetti all round.

November
Work goes into overdrive and spend many evenings burning the midnight oil to meet translation deadlines and still get up to go teaching three days a week.
Two bank holidays whizz by and I take a short trip to the UK to visit family in Yorkshire.
G takes a trip to Singapore, Australia and India, dodging the bullets at the Oberoi hotel in Mumbai by 7 days. His 3-week trip is cut down to 2 weeks and he plans to return in early December rather than mid-December. I spend inappropriate amounts of time watching the news for any information that might make him come back sooner.

December
The first real winter month arrives with a cold bite and swallows up all my time and before I know it, I'm finishing work for Christmas. Credit crunch begins to be old news and there is a severe lack of festivities in Paris. No office Christmas party this year, and everyone is highly concerned about the recession that is sure to arrive in 2009.
Christmas is spent with G for the first time, and in Doncaster with my parents and grandma. Regular visits to see my little niece, who is now talking in word groups of 2 or 3, and is cuter than ever.

Then on 1st Jan 2009 I set off for Hong Kong to visit the lovely Lola....

Already?

Well, it came upon me later than I expected. Usually it hits me around December 4th or 5th with an obligatory carol concert or some mince-pie extravaganza at work.
This year it hit me this evening as I was walking home from the métro. In the very far off distance, I noticed the Eiffel tower flashing, (3 seconds is enough, that's all it does...) then I noticed the fairy lights at my local café, and then snowballs and santa claus lights that had been strung up around Vincennes. It was really beautiful, and something in the crisp, cold, late evening air made me feel really Christmassy.

I actually only have two more official working days left in 2008, and I wasn't feeling particularly festive, but now I am, and the desire to put up baubles and tinsel is overwhelming. I definitely have to embrace my Englishness tomorrow and go out and buy Christmas cards. Just to push the planet into even more danger, but ensure the avoidance of family wrath...

Better get off to the post office and bulk buy some timbres...

Handbags

I was walking through the incredibly busy St Lazare métro station today and I noticed something about Parisian women. If they are aged between about 40 and 50, they carry two handbags. I have no idea why. Neither of these two bags are ever large or practical and I'm not talking about laptop cases.

They carry one in one hand, and one over the shoulder, but neither of them contain enough stuff to warrant actually carrying two bags. They could simply take a medium-sized bag, I just don't understand it. Could it be that they need one black bag and one coloured bag to match their outfit? I don't know.

Unfortunately these bags are never very discreet either, and more than once I have been jolted in the chest by a Lancel monstrosity whilst trying to keep my balance on an over-loaded métro.

I'm definitely more of a stuff-it-all-in kind of girl, and try to carry as little as possible.

Or maybe it's because I can't afford Louis Vuitton...

Getting the cleaners in

Well my dusty back-shelf projects are still rather dusty, and not just the projects but actually the shelves themselves. To that end, I've decided to get the industrial cleaners in.

A few weeks ago, our landlord (who owns the entire building) decided it would be a good idea to get a company in to sand down the stairs and landings in our building. All fine so far. What he didn't take into account was the importance of including the people who actually live in the building in his decision. Now, I'm all for having the landing sanded and varnished, it looks great, but what I didn't particularly appreciate was the inch of dust that had settled on every single surface of my apartment when I got home that night. On books, clothes, pillows, chairs, plates, food boxes... it was horrendous.
When I had finished coughing and sneezing and had removed the dust from the sofa and most of the floor, I decided it was time to get the professionals in. So on Friday, 3 men armed with brushes, hoovers, cloths, bleach and polish are going to come into my home and make it spic and span again, probably cleaner than it has ever been before.

As far as G is concerned, his trip to Mumbai has been cancelled for obvious reasons, especially as his wine show and accommodation were both going to be at the Oberoi hotel, where the hostages were held for several days. He missed the disaster by just under a week.

His trip to Delhi is taking place however, and while I'm still rather concerned for his safety, he has promised that the organisers of the events are being very cautious about security and won't take any chances. Let's hope so.

He's now due back on Friday 5th, in the morning. As (bad) luck would have it, I have to go to the north of France that day for work and won't therefore see him until that evening.

Still, we'll both come to a lovely clean, shiny apartment.

G first day

G left for Singapore this evening, for the first leg of his Asian tour. We do usually live apart a lot of the time (3-4 days a week) but we always see each other at least once a week. This trip means he'll be away for just under 3 weeks; the longest time we've ever actually spent apart since we started seeing each other in 2002.
Of course compared to what some people live through, this is nothing. I can't imagine how the wives and girlfriends of army personnel manage, with their husbands and partners leaving for months at a time to danger zones around the world.
So now it's time to plunge into work and get ahead on those dusty back-shelf projects...

Singapore, Australia, New Dehli and Mumbai

Unfortunately, not my travel plan for the coming months, but G's breakneck 2-week wine tour schedule. He's off to the Far East to try and sell some high quality wine to those who still have enough money to buy it.
He's off on Saturday, so until then I'm trying to get as much G-time as possible, and will be back with a vengeance next week.

A First Class adventure

Two lovely friends of mine tied the knot this weekend in a beautiful setting, in Boston, USA. Audrey and Chris met at Camp Lakota in Wurtsboro, in New York state, which is where I also met them both. Along with around 100 others, we were counselors (obligatory single "l" as we are talking about the USA here) on a summer camp which lasted two months. The friendships we made during the camp have lasted seven years and counting, and Audrey and Chris are two of the most genuine, kind and loving people I have ever met.

The whole experience for me was a real adventure. To begin with, I was flying standby from Paris (a buddy pass courtesy of another great friend) and I had to take a connecting flight in Cincinatti on the way, and in Atlanta on the way home. None of these flights would be guaranteed for me, but I would get an above average shot of being put in Business Class.

As luck would have it, I was put in BC from Paris to Cincinatti, which was really a fantastic experience. The seats reclined to 160°, there was free-flowing champagne (that I didn't sample until the way home actually), and food of better quality than some restaurants. I was clearly travelling business class for the first time (my yelps of pleasure on finding free toothpaste in my little flight gift bag were pretty telling), but I didn't care, I was comfortable and relaxed, and the seat was mine all the way to Cincinatti.

On the next flight, it was totally full and I wondered if I was going to get on. Luckily I got the very last seat, on the back row next to the toilet and a rather silent old lady.

I'd like to say that I arrived in Boston as fresh as a daisy, having slept in my luxurious business class seat, but even though I enjoyed every minute of the flight, (minus a few bumps during turbulence) I still didn't manage to sleep at all, and arrived with grey circles under my eyes and my hair in a cloud of frizz.

I do recommend business class though. And do you know, you don't get your food served on a plastic tray?

All is safely gathered in

It's the harvest in Chablis at the moment, and all is safely gathered in, as the song would have it. Much like a Playtex cross-your-heart bra.

I was there for some of last week and the weekend, and it was quite fascinating to watch it all happen. There are three enormous machines to press the grapes as they come in, and these machines (pneumatic pressure - no feet unfortunately) are used on just 8 days each year. They must take up the space of a small two-bedroom terraced house, but are really only useful for 1/52nd of the year. Amazing really, but without them we'd all have been pulling off our shoes and socks and contaminating the year's vintage with skin particles and the odd fungal infection.

Work-wise things are shimmying along wonderfully, I'm busier than ever with my translation/ interpreting business and aside from a rather hair-raising interpreting job that was way out of my league, I've been bumbling on quite well. It's a bit frustrating to know that the tax man is going to cream off a rather large slice of it all pretty soon, but that's France, and things could be worse than guaranteed health care, cheap public transport and free professional training.

It's pouring down now for the first time in weeks, which doesn't bode well for the rest of the harvest, just over 100 miles away. Rainwater in wine is apparently even worse than the odd athlete's foot breakout...