A weekend in the country

Friday night brought a trip to the circus to see the world famous Cirque du Soleil. After watching people fly through the air on pieces of elastic (and really wanting to have a go), other people bouncing and spinning through the air on trampolines and yet more twisting and turning in the air from trapeze to trapeze, I thought it couldn't get any better. Then the Chinese contortionists came out. I'm not joking, you could see bones that I haven't seen out of the pages of a biology textbook. I can just imagine their coach before a performance, "Right girls, get warmed up, stretch those legs and remove those internal organs before you go...."

They did not have stomachs, that I am certain of. As I said to my friend, you know that something isn't quite right when you can sit on your own head. How these girls were doing what they were doing is beyond me. At one point there was one of them balancing on one hand with her body in a ball shape (stomach up) while the other was on top of her in the same ball shape - and both their faces were looking out to the audience. I bet they are fireballs in bed.

So after my exciting evening of acrobatic entertainment, on Saturday morning I took the train to see my winemaker boyfriend in his village. It's always nice to go to Chablis to rest, relax, eat and drink the finest foods in Burgundy. This weekend was no exception and despite the rain and my sore neck from too much staring up at acrobats, we had a lovely time.

A "long-distance" relationship is something I said I'd never do again, but this time it doesn't feel like long distance, and it's so easy to see each other every weekend. It's true that everyday experiences have to be stored up for the nightly phone call, and I don't say my first words of the day until I arrive at the office, but the time we spend together is precious. I don't know how long we'll keep living in different places: I don't feel ready to live in a village full-time yet, but for the moment it's do-able and let's face it, free Chablis on tap is not something to be sniffed at!

The Single Life

Last night, in order to soften the blow of G's departure to Chablis, I decided to have some friends over for dinner. I spent most of Tuesday evening cooking with various pots and pans bubbling on the stove and onto the work surface. Turkey in creamy mustard sauce with rice was on the menu and I think it was pretty ok, though obviously due to the fact that I'd invited eight people, it was more about quantity than quality.

The French contingent stayed until the respectable time of 11.30pm, then politely went on their way. My English and American friends - and 1 Italian friend - stayed on amongst much merriment, giggles and empties until 1.30am. It was the best evening I've had in a long while with friends, just laughing and telling stories. S, my Italian friend, always has hilarious anecdotes about the various scrapes and situations she gets into. Also A, one of my American friends was over in Europe from Dubai, and we hadn't seen her for several months.

I do miss G, but this evening I realised that girlfriends are such a tonic. Glancing round and checking glasses and filling them up with Chablis, Champagne and pinot noir, I saw how precious these people are to me. There were of course plenty of gaps, especially an L-shaped one, I miss her often, and especially on occasions like last night.

But life goes on, people leave and people return, and we still plod along. Friends just make the plod fun.

Home Sweet Home

I visited England this weekend for what seemed like 24 hours, but what was in reality all weekend.

I also lived through quite a horrendous airport experience, although thankfully without any terrorist links. I arrived in Roissy on Friday at 6.45pm, all ready to check in to my bmibaby flight to East Midlands at 7.25pm - cutting it a little fine I'll admit, but that was mainly due to the wasted 15 minutes spent at the now non-existent bus stop to get from terminal to terminal, it's now the CDGVAL and very nice it is too - and I was greeted with a huge long queue of people waiting to check into the same flight. Now, I know that Roissy is not famous for its lightening check-in times, but there was practically a whole aeroplane full of people waiting.

It turned out that the reason was a THREE HOUR DELAY! I think I've never in my life been delayed three hours for a plane. Perhaps once in winter when the plane was re-routed to Birmingham due to snow, but at least that wasn't all in one go. So, making the best of a bad lot I took Glamour magazine and the Guardian and settled down to a nice Italian salad in one of the airport restaurants. I think the staff of Roissy must all be middle-aged English women but the temperature in there was below freezing for sure. Thankfully again I hadn't put my case in the hold, so I layered on all the tops I had in there to prevent the icy air-con from giving me pneumonia on June 22nd.

Finally we landed in East Midlands at around 11.30pm, three hours later than scheduled, and I was exhausted. A 90 minute drive up the motorway with mum, dad and grandma took the final wind out of my sails (and theirs too quite probably), but it was all worth it when I saw the gorgeous smiling face of my little niece Chloe the next morning.

All this, and I haven't even mentioned the Mumblers Fête de la Musique performance; watch this space.

Nerves of Steel

Tomorrow I have my day 1 of three days of final exams for the Certificate in Translation that I've been doing all year. I'm not confident, because in the mock exam I failed one of the papers. Fingers crossed and blog off now. Wish me luck...

Prague Progress

This weekend I visited Prague with G and his parents, supposedly for his mum's 60th birthday, but in fact we had a great time too and felt more like a present to us than to her.

Prague is a truly extraordinary city. I visited it ten years ago during my student days on the obligatory month long trip around Europe on interail. I know I have grown up a lot since then, but Prague has changed beyond all recognition. The only things I recognised were the old town square and the Charles Bridge.

Otherwise, the city has had a total facelift. The one thing that struck me most is how much the Czech people have understood about tourism. At the hotel the service was top quality, in restaurants the wait staff were polite, smily and efficient, and overall everyone we met was totally open to new ideas, new people, new ways of doing things.

I love France very much, and I wouldn't change it, but when I think about the arrogance there is for all things French: wine, cheese, sauces, monuments, I can't help but think that the French are going to get a harsh wake-up call sometime soon.

Service in France is pretty chilly to say the least. Occasionally there are exceptions, but generally speaking people working in the service industry will do as little as possible to help if it means extra work for them.

The city of Prague is blossoming with new restaurants, bars, museums and parks all over the place. There are fusion restaurants sprouting up with glossy menus, crisp white table cloths and huge crystal wine glasses. Our hotel was modern, gorgeous, designed by Eva Jiricna and with a Philip Starke bathtub in one of the suites. No poky dark rooms there, and a far cry from the gloomy £6 a night apartment I rented for three days the last time I visited. It's a city with a sparkling future for sure.

On a personal note it was lovely to spend some quality time with G, he's been living in Chablis for two weeks now, and I miss him a great deal. He's back again tomorrow and I'm trying to think of something nice to do. It seems we've both been running around so much, perhaps I'll treat him to a little English fusion cooking at home.

Butter wouldn't melt...

How cute is this little bundle? Chloe is almost two months old now, I can't believe how quickly time is flying by. My sister assured me about two weeks ago that her offspring was smiling on command - or at least in reaction to tickles, smiles and songs - and that it was unbelievably cute. Having said that there was no photographic evidence. Now there is, and here you can see my gorgeous niece performing for her close-up.

Life in Paris is extremely busy at the moment. Tonight I just returned from a concert with Voices in Boutigny-sur-Essonne, a delightful little village with a post office, a restaurant, a bar and a church. We sang in the church which was packed to the back, and even the Mayor was there; he sat behind the alto section, so I'm not entirely sure he enjoyed the whole concert.

Yesterday we had a gig with the Mumblers, my band. This time the action was in Gif-sur-Yvette, another small place with the claim to fame of being home to the CAES, which as far as I understood is the playground of the nuclear scientists from the CRNS who spend their days working with nuclear reactors and complicated theories. The CAES seems to be an organisation which takes care of the scientists leisure time. The Mumblers are made up of several employees from the CRNS, and whenever work is mentioned it goes completely over my head.

The gig went pretty well, it was freezing cold and we had to dance like maniacs to warm up, but overall the people liked it. I was quite surprised by the way that they knew line-dancing, rock'n'roll steps and what looked suspiciously like a quick-step. It's always a great pleasure to play for an appreciative audience, and even though they were probably dancing only to keep warm, there was a great atmosphere and they seemed to be having a good time.

So now there are two more concerts to go before the end of the "year" - of course in France the year finishes in June and the new one starts in September. We have one more with Voices - in Magny en Vexin (can a place never have just one word in its name?) and one on the 21st June with Mumblers for the Fête de la Musique, as we did last year. Lovely Lola is no longer a part of Mumblers - the weekly commute from Hong Kong for rehearsals would be a real pain - and so we have to go on without her. Her replacement Angela is doing a great job, but I really miss practicing with L. A January Hong Kong trip is in the pipeline and an Asian karaoke experience is definitely in the top five of my to-do list.

Burning at both ends

Yet again I'm in the throes of a concert - rehearsal - concert - translation - work cycle. G is still living in Paris (until next week) so I'm also trying to make the most of him before the world of wine-making absorbs him forever.

With The Mumblers we have a concert on Friday, so it's all hands on deck to get the ooos in the right place and the belty voice ready to pounce.

Exams in three weeks for my translation certificate and I don't really feel like I'm making progress. I've decided to read Annie Ernaux's Une Femme in French as a way of convincing myself I'm doing something towards bettering my language. In the mock exam I had 9/30 for written French translation, which I am utterly ashamed about, but it gave the kick I needed - or so I thought. Since receiving the results I haven't really done anymore than I did before.

Procrastination is making its home in my schedule and it looks like it's here to stay.

Cereal with a side of cotton anyone?

I had a successful shopping spree today and the sales guys at H&M, Zara and Etam were pretty pleased as well. The reason for this was not any particular boost in my income, but that I managed to ruin at least ten items of clothing from my (and G's) wardrobe.

Last Wednesday, G and some friends of his were sharing an apéro and waiting for a roast chicken to, well, roast, and he heard a banging sound not unlike the noise metal makes when it gets hot. So, without thinking anything of it, he assumed it was the oven.

The next morning I put a load of darks into the washing machine and set it going. Arriving home that evening, I spun round the drum of the toploading washing machine and heard a sickening crunching sound. Now, even with my limited experience of washing machines I am bright enough to know that crunching and machinery do not usually make a good combo.

Opening the machine with intrepidation, I discovered that there was a box of cereal inside the drum. The cardboard from the box had totally disintegrated, leaving shreds all over the dark clothes. The plastic inner bag was slightly open, and a few handfuls of cereals had managed to escape from the packet and onto my lovely new tailored shorts. They were obviously having a great time because they'd stuck with such enthusiasm that I couldn't pick them off without yanking out clumps of material.

The bang that G and his friends heard must have been the box of cereal landing into the open toploading washing machine. I still have no idea how. Suffice to say that most of the clothes from that particular wash are now on their way to some landfill in a rubbish dump.

The cereal was Special K by the way. I have no idea why that's important but everyone I've shame-facedly admitted this story to has asked me the same question.

The moral of the story: always check the interior of the washing machine for children, pets, garden tools and of course, cereal boxes.

Paris Subway warms up...

I found this heart-warming video today, even though Sarkozy will probably ban it soon, métro music can still be good. I have to say that this group is professional and were on a tour of Europe. Their name is Naturally7 and I'm sure we'll be hearing more from them.

Yes, old Sarko made it, as everyone thought or feared he would. His first duty as President was of course to take a holiday, in true French style. Still, he wanted to make a point: money is not a shameful thing to have. All those single-parent families are very grateful to him for pointing that out, I'm sure.

As I said in my previous post, I'm neither for him nor against him and there are parts of his programme which do worry me. I just think we can't forget that he's been minister of the interior for the last 5 years and there has been little radical change.

Let's calm down and listen to the cool metro music...

La France Présidente

The pun in her election campaign tag-line roughly translates into "France presiding" or "France on top" but with the added bonus that présidente is the word for a woman in that job. This doesn't really gel with how the media has been portraying Ségolène Royal in the last few weeks. I'm not totally sure, but I get the impression that France will be pretty crippled under all her generous reforms and I'm beginning to wonder where she's planning on getting all her funding for the projects she assures us she'll put in place.

On the other hand there is "Ensemble, tout devient possible" from Nicolas Sarkozy, which is really just as scary. Anything is possible, indeed. Where will he stop with his threats to clean out the rough suburbs with a power-jet washer? Economically he is the polar opposite to Ségolène Royal, choosing to emphasize the fact that France doesn't work enough.

I have to admit that there he may have a point. Today we are enjoying a very sunny 1st May public holiday, and there are more to come. Next week will be the same, Tuesday is a bank holiday, and like this week, Monday will be a pont (bridge - word used for a long weekend) so the week will only contain three real working days. There is another pont the week after that, on Thursday and Friday, and then a full week, then on the 28th a lot of companies still give Whitsuntide Monday off, although it's no longer a public holiday (since 2004).

It's hardly surprising then when we hear that the French resent their potential president telling them that they have to work more. Being used to 5 weeks holiday a year, plus all these public holidays, they consider them part of life, and a right.

Being English, I don't have a vote in the presidential election, and with the current selection of second-round candidates I have to say I'm almost glad. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to lie in the sunshine and do nothing.