L'Oiseau

Introducing The New Man in my Life

2007-11-07T17:43:00.001+01:00

Meet Gabriel! He's got all the makings of a grumpy Frenchman and he's adorable and all mine (well, okay the Frog has something to do with him as well!). He was born on the 19th October at 00:31 and he truly blessed me by giving me a very easy labour - my waters broke at 18:30, I still had no contractions at 19:30 whilst being monitored at the clinic. Things then moved very fast and he sped his way out just a few hours later.

Despite the fact he was 3 and a half weeks early he weighed in at a healthy 7lbs/3,2kgs and 51 cms/20 inches. He even timed his arrival to coincide with my Mum's planned trip to keep me company in my last weeks of pregnancy - one way to make Grandma extra happy!

We got home 5 nights later and since then I've been living a blur of sleepless nights, alternated by'good' nights, alternated by sleepless nights. And of course it's all worthwhile (just don't expect me to say that after he's pulled another nuit blanche).

Things I have learnt:

I can now fall asleep anytime, anywhere when I get more than 2 minutes quiet

Little baby boys like to spray pee whilst they get their nappies changed

The washing machine is my new best friend

I might have been able to get back into my jeans a week later after the birth but if I continue to eat like a pig I will grow out of them again

Breastfeeding pads make great coasters

Grey's Anatomy Seasons 1,2 and 3 are the only way to stay sane during night feeds

I'm not one of those mother's who can interpret her baby's cries - they're all loud and screamy

I have to learn to accept that my flat will never be tidy agan to the level I like

Frog won't admit it (for fear of the consequences in increased requests) but he's an excellent nappy changer

Lentils, avocados and merguez sausages are off the menu because of their disastrous chemical effect on the next nappy change

I feel a bit naughty writing this post because I have so many people to contact and thank for their messages and gifts that have arrived in the last 3 weeks. But I also felt guilty for not updating the blog!

So, not sure when I'll post again - I hope to get into a bit more of a routine at some point but have yet to progress to multi-tasking!

I'm Ready For My Close Up

2007-08-14T15:50:00.000+02:00

I know, it's been over a month and I've become a rubbish blogger again. I could list a litany of reasons that have kept me from my blog, ranging from the good (2 weeks holiday) to the slime (France Telecom).

I'm counting down the last three weeks of air travel to Hamburg before I'm grounded and am rather caught up in a lot of work that needs to be done before the end of the month.

The good news is that Frodo (pictured left on July 13th at the beginning of his 6th month) is doing very well. He kicks a lot and is well within the norms (which means he can't possible be related to Frog or myself). Meanwhile, I've recently been put on a sugar and fruit free diet as a precaution since my blood(y) sugar levels were slightly elevated and the kilos had been piling on. Luckily, the doctor's instructions came after my ice cream heavy holiday so it's just Frog and colleagues who have to put up with my sugar craving headaches now.

Anyway, back to the powerpoint writing. I'll be more active in a couple of weeks - I promise!

Tipple

2007-07-02T14:19:00.000+02:00

I can't say I miss drinking a huge amount. When Frog has been at various dégustations I have taken the odd surreptitious sip (you can't say no to trying Mumm's Blanc de Blancs) but that suffices as I move back to the fruit juice.

However, this weekend we went to a wedding in the countryside just outside Troyes in the Aube. It's only an hour and a half drive further south, and in the extreme of the Champagne Ardennes, but we felt the change in the temperature by a couple of degrees and felt like we were in another region.

The wedding was in a beautiful little church and was the most chaotic service I've ever experienced. After the sortie (which was never an official end to the service, more like get up when you're bored with what the priest is saying about the signing of the registers), everyone piled back to the bride's family house. And what a house. It was a huge old redbrick pile in the grounds of an old mill, complete with river, weir, 'beach' and magnificent garden. The garden and marquee were decked out for a '1001 Nights' style and we ate couscous, tagines, salads and sweet pastries.

So, to the booze. The champagne was served (the Aube is part of the Champagne AOC and known for its Pinot Noir) which was no great loss to me as I took the mint tea. Then we sat down for dinner and I spotted the magnum bottles of Pomerol 1975 on every table. Very unfair. I took a sip from Frog and even he (who's not a red fan) quaffed away happily all night.

I did, however, feel slightly virtuous the next day when Frog emerged having spent most of the night being ill after over indulgence in food and drink. Yes, I felt a little smug!

Sweet Tip

2007-06-28T16:51:00.000+02:00

I was in Paris yesterday for some meetings. I had completely forgotten that it was the first day of the sales, so my 'quick dash' to Haussmann, to look for a jacket that fits, turned into a Parisian bargain hunter nightmare. There is no comparison to the craziness of Paris Sales.

So, empty handed, feet aching, I headed back to Gare de l'Est to get the train home (45 mins on the TGV, woo-hoo!). Whilst on the métro I remembered that between Gare du Nord and Gare de l'Est ( a 5 min cut through by foot) I had often passed an Indian Sweet shop. Never having had the time to stop before, this time I got off the métro early at Gare du Nord.

I went inside and selected several (alright, eight) different sweets to go into a box and a couple of vegetable samosas in a paper bag. The shop specialises in Pakistani/Indian sweets and whilst there wasn't the range of the Bangladeshi sweets I used to buy when I lived on Brick Lane in London, it was full of Indian/Pakistanis so I figured that had to be a good sign. What I tasted when I got home were wonderful. Juicy Gulab Jamans and Carrot Halwa, so sweet they make your teeth ache. The samosas were finished before I got on the train! A great new find. I wish they'd start supplying our dodgy Indian restaurants in Reims who, conversely, have the worst samosas I've ever experienced.

Bhai Bhai Sweets

4, rue de Deux Gares

75010 Paris

Surprise!

2007-06-26T21:20:00.000+02:00

The last week has been a bit of a blur. Within the space of five nights, I'd stayed in three different hotels in different countries. All rather lovely hotels, so I'm not complaining there and we had a great weekend in Amsterdam for a surprise birthday party. Frog and I splashed out on a fancy shmancy hotel and lived the high life for a couple of nights.

Yesterday, this lovely lady came for the afternoon, so that was like another mini-holiday showing the sights. And then today I had to get back down to some work.

I had a little break later this afternoon for my five month check up at the doctors. Apart from the fact that my doctor has the limpest hand shake I've ever experienced, I really like her. She's gentle but a little 'business like' at times but I prefer that and to be honest needed it with the miscarriages last year.

So, this time, for the first time I headed off without Frog for my check up. "Did I tell you the sex last time?", she asked. "Yes, you said you were 90% sure that it was a girl". Frog had been a little disappointed as he was hoping for a little boy to play football with. However, he'd been on the phone to his best mate in Lyon who had a baby girl last year who raved about being the 'hero dad' to his little girl.

"Ahh, well I hope you haven't put the wallpaper up yet - because it's a boy. Definitely a boy."

I actually feel a little thrown by this! We had a lovely girl's name all picked out and I've been referring to "she" who kicks a lot at the moment. It's all the same to me in the end - I'm happy if it's healthy - but I don't know a thing about little boys. We were all girls in my family!! I know girls get sulky and tantrummy and are supposed to be harder. But I consider myself an expert on 'little madam' type behaviour!

So, it's now on with the thinking caps for a boys name that works in English and French. I'm going to have to spend the next day or so adjusting!

Champagne Roses

2007-06-22T08:56:00.001+02:00

Rose Garden at Veuve Clicquot, Verzy
Originally uploaded by oiseau

I'm currently in Hamburg before flying off for a weekend away with Frog. We're treating ourselves to a fancy hotel in a European city - of which more next week.

I'd thought I'd just post a quick link to a few photos that I took a couple of weeks ago. Veuve Clicquot had an open weekend at their Manoir in Verzy. It's not their main house (which is situated in Reims) but in a village about fifteen minutes south of the city. I imagine LVMH (who own Veuve) use the house for corporate events and trainings.

However, they have a stunning rose garden in the grounds which was opened for the unwashed public for one weekend only. I just took a few photos and I'm not a great rose or gardening expert (unlike some who were there) but it was a pleasant afternoon out.

The set of photos can be seen here.

Saturday Night's Alright...

2007-06-17T17:00:00.000+02:00

We were expecting friends round for drinks last night. Frog called during the day to invite them over for an apéro before heading somewhere for dinner together.

Since Frog caught the husband on his own, he said he'd call back to confirm after he'd spoken to his wife but yes, he said, that sounded like a great plan.

So, 7:30pm still no call... we watched the clock and as my hunger level rose so did my impatience. I stomped a little in the kitchen and grilled a couple of chops to eat with some roasted veg that I'd cooked the night before.

By now it was 9pm and Frog and I found ourselves installed at the window that overlooks one of the city's main streets. We caught ourselves acting like an old couple as we people watched and passed judgement on those who passed below our flat. It was quickly decided that this kind of behaviour couldn't continue whilst we were still carefree (read baby free) and young(ish).

We quickly left the flat and headed to our favourite hotel bar, the only place in Reims where you can pretend that you're an international jet setter and sip cocktails.

Me: The waitress thought the champagne one was for me. She must just think I'm fat.
Frog: You've been in France too long. You're starting to sound like a French woman.
Me: You think French women have the monopoly on insecurities?
Frog: Well, English women don't care what they look like.
Me: You really want to continue this conversation?
Frog: Ummm... No..... So, what do you think would be best. Being a famous international sports star or musician?

And so the coconut and mango cocktail didn't leave me giddy but we ended up having a fun evening that didn't revolve around discussing work, babies or family. In fact I think date night might need to become a more regular occurance over the next few months.

The Not So Domestic Goddess

2007-06-13T19:23:00.000+02:00

Frog came home yesterday with a couple of kilos of cherries from our plumber (and Frog Father friend). I do now see some sense in the guest list I was dead armed into agreeing for the wedding when they have fruit trees that they like to donate the harvest of.

So, having stoned a good kilo of them, the kitchen looks like someone has been stabbed and I have just put a clafoutis into the oven. I've never made calfoutis before but I like to bake once a week and they're s'posed to be easy. I say "I like to" because it's far from a strict rule and more to do with when the mood takes me.

I haven't had a major culinary disaster. Even the chocolate fondant cake which broke could be cut into mini cakes using a biscuit cutter. That is until Sunday. On Sunday I got together the ingredients for a Lemon and Poppyseed Cake that I'd seen in Good Housekeeping magazine. (Yes, I'm getting old). I had looked for poppyseeds in Carrefour that weekend and not found any but had been pleasantly surprised when home and digging in the herbs and spice cupboard to find a clear, unlabelled jar of seeds. I smelt them. No odour. "Great", thought I. "I must have bought them for a recipe a while ago".

So, I made the lemon cake mixture, then added the seeds that had been soaked in milk for an hour. Before I poured the golden mixture into cake tin I took a sneaky fingerful. I'm not supposed to eat raw eggs but a fingerful doesn't count. It tasted lemony but there was a rather odd aftertaste. I took another fingerful.

With a groan, I identified the intrusive taste. Mustard. I had added mustard seeds to the cake mixture. What a waste, as I poured away the four eggs, cream, sugar, lemon and mustard into the bin. Frog thought it pretty funny. Personally, I think it would have been more amusing if I'd baked it and only once he, being piggy and as usual sneaking a slice before it's ready, had tasted it have discovered the truth.

Now, she puts me to shame!

Gender Politics

2007-06-10T21:39:00.001+02:00

This evening we were watching the first results from the elections when I felt the little one moving.

Oiseau: Ooohh, moving about again...
Frog: Maybe she's* interested in politics
Oiseau: French politics? I don't think so
Frog: You know she's half French
Oiseau: No, whilst the baby's still inside me possession is 9/10ths of the law. Until the day it decides to make a break for freedom there is no claim to be made.
Frog: Ummmm...... ok

* At the last scan the doctor said she's 90% sure that it's a girl but will confirm next month. Strangely, despite being the only one of us with a preference for a boy (I don't mind either way as long it arrives healthy!) Frog is the one who now talks about the "girl", "she" whereas I'm still rather neutral on the "it".

Have you guessed yet?

2007-06-07T14:47:00.000+02:00

Today is a huge relief for me. I can finally share the news that I'm expecting a little mini-Oiseau/Froglet in November!

Not only did I have to keep my mouth and thoughts shut for the first three months, until we'd reached a safe confirmation from the doctor but I had also recently started a maternity cover freelance job. So, a rather embrassing conversation with my, surprisingly understanding, director meant that I had to sit on the news for a while longer so that my other colleagues kept a credible opinion of me for as long as possible!

However, at 18 weeks and 3 days the little (not so neat) bump, who has started to kick, is becoming obvious and I have begun to announce the news to the rest of my colleagues.
I'll keep on working for as long as possible, travelling until the beginning of September, then working from home until B-Day when it's a whole new world for Frog and me.

I can't explain what an odd double life I've been living and how exciting it is to get used to talking about the news. I don't want to become a pregnancy bore but I fear that once I start now, you might never get me to shut up!

Backwards Association

2007-06-04T21:50:00.000+02:00

Hamburg - Tired - Big Bed - Book Room Service Breakfast - Banana Bread Baking - Greedy - Frog - Weekend - Mumm Tastings - Rose Gardens - Veuve Clicquot - Lawn - Red Beetle - Sore Feet - Sandwiches on Bench - Open Day TGV Station - Disappointing Timetables - Drive - Le Gaulois - Vittel Grenadine - Sunshine - Library Books - DVDs - Home made Lemon Chicken Couscous - Try New Restaurant - Disappointed - Procrastination - Long Distance Calls to Germany - Budget Sheets - Corrections - Powerpoint - Procrastination - Doctor's Appointment - Clicky Jaw - Laundry - VAT Returns - Moan about Sweaty Squash Kit on Floor - Work Lists - Shopping Research - Budget Sheets - Weekly To Do List - Sleep - Hot Chocolate with Nutmeg - Space NK Bath Oil - Frog at Door - Raining - Taxi - Baggage Claim - Rush to Loo - Scramble to get off Plane - Delays - Tchuss

Typical Weekend

2007-05-28T12:19:00.000+02:00

Although I spend half my working time in Hamburg, I do (usually) get to have a three or four day weekend on my return before plugging away on projects at home for another few days, before returning.

I find I'm getting really stressed on the journeys and am trying to locate my more 'zen' atttitude. I'm not sure I've ever found my inner peace but if I don't soon I'm likely to take out one of my fellow passengers or Air France staff in the frustration that I feel mounting every time there's another delay or another group of pushy, selfish business travellers or Air France dealing in its usual lack of understanding of the meaning of customer service and rewarding loyalty.

Rant over.

So, this weekend we managed a pretty normal, relaxing pace at home. I'd had a day to unwind from the six hour journey home. On Friday evening we agreed that we'd head out to eat that evening. The beginnings of a storm were threatening and we knew that we should decide where we were going in advance, rather than our usual meandering and discussion before ending up at a usual place. However, we ended up being incapable of making a decision and did our usual meandering, our pace only quickening when large drops started to slowly fall.

Frog remarked that "as usual I had got my own way" as we entered the Medina, a new restaurant for us to try, that serves couscous and tagines in a tented Moroccan decoration. I'd like to point out that I very rarely get my way with the Frog, who is probably more stubborn than I am. And of course nothing makes him happier than a plate of merguez, so of course I had his best interest at heart from the beginning.

One glass of champagne, one bottle of Vitttel, two enormous couscous, finished up with a plate of dates and sweets accompanied by mint tea and a Chocolate Liégois for Frog, we were presented with a very reasonable bill. We had noticed a couple at the neighbouring table, Frog had recognised the woman from one of the church dinners this year and from the overheard chat, they seemed to be on a date. Frog managed to put his foot in it by telling her, "Well I wouldn't have recognised you except by your voice, because you're wearing so much make up tonight". A swift kick under the table from me and tight smile from the woman and Frog began to realise he'd said something wrong. Her retort was more pointed in my direction that she, "remembered the young English wife who had given up everything to follow her husband and live in Reims". As Frog (pat on the back) said, "I'm not sure that's entirely true, since that would rather elevate my importance". All of course said with perfect French politeness and smiles. Nevertheless, the conversation stopped there and the couple turned their backs as far as is possible on an small, adjaecent table.

The storm hit Reims, with a short blackout and (unlike other parts of the region) no hail stones to damage the young grapes and we hurried home.

It's not unusual for us to have visitors at the village, usually Anglo Saxons on a weekend. They mostly come through word of mouth to visit the premises and enjoy a tasting. This weekend there was a small group of Kiwis visiting from London.

I usually drive over to the village with Frog and do the initial welcome. Then I leave Frog to do the tour of the vines and production whilst I set up for the tasting (alright, I read the newspaper and have a coffee in the kitchen). Frog absolutely loves this part of his job. He's far better at the small talk than I am and is a great host. I can see him getting his fix of "outside contact" when chatting with visitors and finding out about their lives in London, their travels and sharing his knowledge of the wines. He adores his job in the village and the new challenges but I can see that the visitors bring a refreshing change from the politics and chores of a traditional family business in the region.

Once we'd waved the visitors goodbye, we headed off to Carrefour for a dodgy Flunch lunch and did our bi-weekly stock up. Coming home, I unpacked the shopping and Frog went for a game of squash with a friend. I have mastered the art of 'pootling' around the flat, which I did for a couple of hours till Frog returned and we installed ourselves on the sofa with a home made steak sandwich, salad and strawberries.

Sunday was a perfect example of 'doing nothing' for me. Frog made it to the gym, I stayed in my pyjamas until 3pm when we went for a stroll around the park and installed ourselves in a café for an hour or so, reading magazines before walking home and plonking ourselves on the sofa for the evening.

So, if we had a standard weekend in Reims, that's how it would look.

One Year On

2007-05-21T13:20:00.000+02:00

It was our first wedding anniversary this weekend. We went out for dinner on Saturday night but were happy to end the evening on the sofa watching Life On Mars. Old farts that we are!

As Frog says, the Anglo Saxons really do love their greeting cards. So whilst we had nothing from our French 'side', we got five cards from the British family and friends. Mum sent over a framed WW1 postcard of Reims cathedral in flames (like she said, don't read anything into it!) and we finally got to open a huge box that had been waiting for a year in the office.

Inside we found:

Copies of the local newspaper L'union and the International Herald Tribune from May 20th 2006

Drink Me: A bottle of prosecco

Use Me: Two beautifully designed flutes

Develop Me: A disposable camera to be developed from the wedding weekend

Remember Me: A 2006 World Cup calendar

My fab friends Gaby and Ralf had given the box to us on the day following our wedding. I think it's one of the best gifts I've ever had! (Gaby was the office manager and Ralf my first ever boss - although he passed me onto someone else after 24 hours! - when I arrived in London ten years ago).

Frog bought me a beautiful bunch of red roses that were identical to the ones he gave me when he proposed.

It's been quite a year. A brilliant honeymoon, my search for freelance work, two miscarriages, our first time 'hosting' Christmas, Frog has been adjusting to becoming more embroiled in the family business and now I head off to Hamburg every two weeks for work. Ups and some fairly low downs but when we look at it on balance it's been wonderful. And just watch this space, things will be changing again around here, for sure.

London

2007-05-18T09:39:00.000+02:00

I spent the last two nights on a flying visit to London with Frog. One of his importers had invited him to attend a tasting he'd organised with a select group of small winemakers from around the world attending. The first evening was a private event in a swanky private club in Mayfair. We'd arrived directly from the ferry and did the quick freshen up and change in the loo thing (yes, very glamorous). The second evening was a public event held in the basement of a bar/restaurant next to the Barbican.

I have to say Tuesday evening was more engaging in terms of tastings - it was a fairly wealthy group who had paid to be there and were really interested in the champagnes. It's not really work for me because it's talking about something that's not my day to day business but that I appreciate and can sound fairly knowledgeable on now. The 'punters' enjoy it because they get to meet the winemaker in person rather than some big house label bought from Tescos (or more likely Waitrose in these cases!).

The second evening was quieter in terms of attendance except for when about sixteen of Frog and my friends turned up! The only reason we got through more bottles that night was because we were enjoying a coupe with our mates. I got to catch up with my sister, and seven other friends, some of whom I hadn't seen since the wedding. A couple of Frog's friends arrived a little early to announce their engagement, which of course meant another few coupes in celebration! Frog's friends also included a group of ex-colleagues using the event as a sort of reunion. Some of those he hadn't seen since he left London six years ago. I think they were rather shocked to hear his once well balanced London accent having mutated into a more traditional French bloke's tone that the last few years have given him.

Yesterday morning was spent shopping in M&S for some 'essentials'. Unfortunately, I left my bank card behind when paying which will mean hassle and admin today in ordering a new one from my local bank. I also met my best friend from school and her 6 month old, who does nothing but smile and gurgle, for lunch in a shockingly modernised Spitalfields (what happened to the grunge??).

So, we're home now. I'm pretty shattered to tell the truth but working in my pyjamas whilst the Germans are on holiday for the day, I might get to catch up on some work.

Gourmandise

2007-05-13T09:45:00.000+02:00

After an entire working week in a hotel room in Hamburg it's good to be home. Not that we've really stopped since I got back!

I arrived Friday evening at Charles de Gaulle airport and instead of heading to Reims, took a taxi into the suburbs of Paris. Frog had been making deliveries all day in the city and we were meeting up at a friend, David''s, flat for dinner. A group of eight of us ate and chatted and I found it a little bizarre going from a week of German and English (alright, I'm not speaking much German but that's the aural surroundings) to an evening of fast, colloquial French. I managed to keep up until about half past midnight. After toasting the arrival of Frog's birthday, I left the others and fell into a donated bed.

Back to Reims on Saturday morning, last night we took off for Frog's birthday gift. I was buying dinner at the Assiette Champenoise, a two star Michelin restaurant and hotel, which is just outside the city centre. The suburb it's situated in is pretty grotty which makes it all the more surprising to turn into a classical, beautiful setting, away from the street lined with dark, smokey bars (where Father Frog likes to meet his mates every morning for a café).

Frog took the large tasting menu accompanied by glasses of a Krug cuvée and I selected a couple of the à la carte items. I'd been worried that I would be hungry watching Frog work his way through the enormous menu. No fear of that. The servings were copius for this type of establishment and the morsels that came 'between courses' included a pre-dessert table including smallsticks of candy floss (how could I resist?), mini chocolate eclairs, peach flavoured marshmallow, peanut brittle and more...

We left holding our stomachs and were handed a small bag containing a loaf of bread for this morning's breakfast. Since it's already 10am, I'm still full from last night and soon heading out for lunch to celebrate Father Frog's 60th birthday, I might have to freeze the loaf for a day when we'll appreciate it!

Much to Frog's discomfort I worked out why both he, his father and sister's birthdays all fall within one day of each other. Nine months back is August, traditionally the only month (in addition to a quiet February) when the wine makers have time on their hands. Seems that's one another local tradition that we'll have to watch out for!

The Great Debate

2007-05-03T10:58:00.000+02:00

Well last night was the much hyped TV debate between Ségolène Royale and Nicolas Sarkozy.

It's a slightly odd feeling when there is so much riding on the presidential candidate and I am no longer an expatriate 'passing through'. As an travailleur indépendent (self employed) who hands over nearly 75% of income to the government in either cotisations (fees) or taxes, I have as much to win or lose as any other French person and yet I have no voice.

So, that means that Frog gets it in the ear!

A few things I have noted:

The popular press refers to Ségolène by her first name and 'Sarko' by his surname.
Last night's debate reminded me of occasions I have experienced at my family-in-law's. It begins courteously and then as the discussions progress the sniping begins until voices start to rise and it descends into full on verbal aggression. Doesn't sit so well with my passive aggressive tendencies and at times I found last night's debate quite stressful!
Whilst Frog and I agree on the economic policies required for this country, I'm a little more left leaning when it comes to social and welfare policies.
Frog was quite scared when he saw the results of the first round in his family village:

1. Sarkozy (160 votes); 2. JM Le Penn (65 votes); 3. F Bayrou (50 votes) and 4. S Royal (47 votes).

So despite Le Pen's national downfall, this village apparently still stays faithful. Which is odd because what I understood as so often the source of tensions don't exist here - although it's a conservative rural village, it's also one with a relatively wealthy profile since people either own vines or have a regular income working the vines or servicing in some way the industry. And I'm pretty sure there's 100% non-ethnic diversity.
What's also strange in a small village is that you see the exact numbers i.e. only 47 people voted for Royal and I'm sure that I know two of them. In fact I suspect the Frog Family are split 50/50 in their support between the two final candidates. At least we can claim that none of the Le Pen voters were from his family...

Perhaps in the end there's a slight relief that I can't vote since I do find that my left/right; social/economic conscience are split down the middle.

Oh and the debate? I fell asleep and missed the one most explosive moment....

Sunny Climes

2007-04-30T19:31:00.000+02:00

The north east of France has been hit by the unseasonally warm weather. For nearly three weeks now we've had days that have hit upwards of 28°C in the afternoon and no rain. Whilst I'm happy to sport my tanned décolletage, now that our income depends on something more fundamental than the whims of a consumer's shopping habits, you start to watch the weather a little closer.

Despite all the technological advances of recent years, the results of the harvest will come down to the pure force of nature. The lack of rain isn't a concern for the moment, given that the previous months were wetter than usual. However, the vines are now a month ahead of themselves in growth and drought or a change in the temperature bringing a late frost is still a worry. The chance of frost isn't discounted until mid-May.

I don't remember the technical term (and Frog left the photo in the village otherwise I'd have shown you) but the very young grape forms have already appeared on the vines. Similarly, the cherries in the garden have also shot out in the form of little green balls. At this rate they'll be harvesting the grapes in August.

Because of the long dry spell, the treatment of the vines had been postponed until after the first rains. The village did have a brief shower on Saturday which meant that Frog spent part of his Sunday preparing the tanks so that the workers could go straight out to the vines at 8am on Monday (today). Tomorrow is a holiday so it was a race against time to treat as many vines as possible before the end of the day. Father Frog is on holiday and this is the first time Frog has had to to this - I think it's been a busy day - learning on the job as the tractor broke down and a neighbour's had to be begged/borrowed for the afternoon. Luckily, they have a good relationship with other vinegrowers in the village and a young, experienced worker, Benoit, who's eager to do things well.

Tomorrow will be a break from all things viticole as we're escaping to the city (yes, there's an irony in the Parisians escaping to the country this weekend!) for a trip to Paris. We're going to be tourists for the day, you'll spot us waving from the bateau mouche!

Asperges

2007-04-29T10:36:00.000+02:00

I spent last week in a three day, heatwave, whirlwind trip around three German places: from the far north of Hamburg to the south west Frankfurt and Karlsruhe. I'm afraid that, other than the building complex I had a meeting in, the only thing I could note about Karlsruhe is that it's twinned with Nottingham and Nancy. But the sun shone and whilst I waited for another colleague to finish inside my assistant and I had a sunny sandwich and impromptu status meeting on a bench.

Hamburg is my German base and a lovely city. I hope that when I go there for one week (in two weeks time) that the weather is as beautiful and I can enjoy the Alster lakes properly.

An overnight trip to Frankfurt was my first time in the city. Actually (as is often the case) I didn't make it to the city centre but was based in a dorf just outside where our agency's offices are. We stayed in a very eccentric B&B and after a full day of meetings were invited out to dinner by the agency team. There were six of us, all women, including one colleague from the international team that I first met in 2000 and despite my moves from London, New York, Paris and Reims and hers from London to Copenhagen, we've always kept in touch. In fact she was the person to give me my first freelance project last year.

We headed towards what I was told was a typical Frankfurt restaurant. I'll admit my prejudices conjured up some dark, smokey restaurant and I wasn't over optimistic about the cuisine. Once we had made it past Gerty, a sprightly 85 year old woman in charge of the parking spaces, we headed into a large garden area packed with locals and decorated with twinkling lights as dusk fell. Our orders were taken by a middle aged, mustachioed man who was more interested in giving us his opinion rather than taking any orders. I have to say it was the best meal I've enjoyed in a while. We were served local apfelwein and the seasonal speciality asparagus. Here in Frankfurt, as in the Champagne Ardennes, the asparagus is the large, thick, juicy white variety that I had never tasted until I came to Reims. The asparagus (or spargel) was the centre piece of the dish with the schnitzel, new potatoes and hollandaise sauce served as sides. Dessert was what I can only describe as what tiramisu would be if it's main ingredient was apple.

So that was my list of firsts - Frankfurt, asparagus of the season and my first al fresco dinner of the year.

Spring

2007-04-23T19:15:00.000+02:00

Yes, I know, I know.

No excuses.

I promise I will write more in the next couple of weeks. Honestly.

What can I say? It's hot. The experts in the region say that the vines are about three weeks ahead of themselves in terms of development. So Frog is hoping that there's no frost and rain in the next couple of weeks that would prove a deadly combination.

The cherry trees that we snapped in blossom one week ago are now all green leaved.

We've been out and about visiting local sites over Easter with my family (back when coats were still necessary), you can probably just make out the sails of the Mumm windmill at Verzenay in the background.

In other news on a more 'serious' front...
I'm gainfully employed at the moment - a fixed freelance role for the next year. The upside is that I'm earning some cash and am occupied doing what I'm good at - which keeps my mind off other more emotional stuff that happened over the last year. The downside is that it's in Germany! So, I'm doing three days a week work and spending every other week in Hamburg but also increasing my previous knowledge of the country through meetings in Berlin, Frankfurt and Dusseldorf! It's the kind of situation where I get really into the projects when I'm there and think it's great to be working again. And then I come home, look around and think, 'why would I want to leave this again?'

Frog says he's happy for me to do this as it keeps me happier (read easier to live with?) than I was before when I was kicking around at home with less projects happening and generally less occupied. It also can't be a bad thing when your other half realises he can't take dinner on the table every evening for granted!

I guess I should look at this as the perfect situation ... for now.

As I said, more news soon ....

Winter Stroll

2007-02-05T17:41:00.001+01:00

Champagne
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

I've been a little bit neglectful (again) of the blog. But I have no apologies to offer. I've taken a step back from everything in the last month and just tried to 'go with the flow' (cue much guffawing from anyone who knows me and my controlling tendencies).

You might be forgiven for thinking the photo above is from our holidays in the south-eastern Var but we haven't left yet. The photo is from our three hour walk around the village yesterday. It was incredibly mild weather with a bright sun and blue sky. I saw catkins, rosehips and blossoms during our stroll. Which doesn't seem right for the beginning of February. You can see the set of photos here.

Since I last posted we have zipped from Reims to London, back to Reims, onto Brussels and across to Amsterdam for different wine fairs. I seem to have collected a nice little culture of germs across the continent and am still fighting a lingering cough and cold. It wasn't all hard work since London and Amsterdam gave us the chance to catch up with friends and let our hair down a bit during the evenings.

However, the fairs are tiring and it's hard to stay patient at the end of the day when a noisy minority of the 'tasters' (who have actually been swallowing for a while) swarm to your stand for drunken badgering and an intent to finish off your champagne. The professionals are actually far worse than the general public. Upon one Belgian restauranteur's acclamation that 'the English obviously have no taste' his French friends joined in in agreement. As he continued to demand more champagne, I gently warned with a smiling, 'You should be careful what you say, as I'm English'. He, of course, continued and I could only point out that we might then agree on one thing, "I might have bad taste as an Englishwoman, since I had indeed married a Frenchman".

Luckily the Frog has a sense of humour.

So, Frog is back at work following up with his sales leads and we just have to get through the next 48 hours and we'll be on our hols. They'll be the first we've had together since August, tied as we are now to the production and sales cycle of the house. The only plan we have is to drive down to the family house in Cavalaire with a stack of books. Everything else will be played by ear.

Le Bordeaux c'est bon mais le Champagne c'est meilleur*

2007-01-16T23:04:00.000+01:00

I waved Frog off this evening after a hearty dinner of merguez and mash. He was wrapped up warmly with his Allez Reims scarf and Fier d’être Rémois emblazoned across his woollen hat.

Tonight was a big night. Stade de Reims had beaten Monaco and Rennes to reach the semi-finals of the Coupe de la ligue. Bear in mind that the Stade is half way down the 2nd Division and has beaten Premier Division teams to reach this far. This semi-final match was to be played in the half-built new stadium Delaune, fifteen minutes walk from here.

I had planned on having the match on in the background whilst packing and possibly having a relaxing bath in a peaceful flat. In the end I spent 90 minutes sat on the floor in front of the telly. It was an excellent game and even though the final score showed 2-1 to Bordeaux, Reims really did do themselves proud. Frog has come home in a state of excited disappointment, clutching his commemeration scarf. It was a wonderful dream that Stade de Reims would go through to the final at the Stade de France. However, for the Reims team to be talked about at a national level again is quite an achievement for the long patient supporters.

I'm off on an early train to London tomorrow for a five day trip, so posting might be a little quiet. I expect a mix of drinking, working, friends and very sore feet after three days at the Vive La France event.

*Seen on a large homemade banner at the match

Here versus There

2007-01-14T18:58:00.000+01:00

This time two years ago, I was still living in Paris. I spent two years in the city of lights before we moved and we're about 21 months into this Rémois adventure.

A subject of conversation that crops up fairly regularly in this household is living here versus there. Aside from the expected, that we have a better quality of life in a smaller city next to the countryside, Frog frequently claims that part of this is also due to the fact that there are simply no Parisians in our daily lives.

I was reminded of this subject recently by several things. Firstly, by her post the other day, in which she touches on this topic. I have to say everything noted about what the people in the provinces think about the Parisians rang very, very true in this household.

There are several expatriate bloggers that I follow, some are in Paris and I enjoy their observations on life in the city. However, there is nothing more irritating to me when an observation is made about 'the French' or 'France' and I think : NO! You're talking about Paris and its inhabitants. There is often a gulf between their habits and behaviours and those of the provinces.

Finally, I was embarassed to find an email in my inbox from the end of last November that I haven't replied to yet. The email came from a woman who had found my site whilst googling "living in Reims". Since she was considering a move to Reims to research and write about the champagne industry, she wanted to know my thoughts. In true laziness, I have waited nearly two months to reply and have now copied and pasted her questions below, along with my thoughts.

Your story interests me, as you're an English-speaking woman who has chosen to live in France & especially in Reims.
Hmmm... choice. Well, I was offered a job in Paris that was too good to refuse. I was young-ish, free, single and was offered a senior position on a European team, living in Paris, with expatriate benefits for a couple of years. "Well, okay then, why not..." pretty much sums up my the result of my period of consideration.

I wouldn't say I especially chose to live in Reims. North-eastern France is not the most attractive area, although €5 a coupe of champagne doesn't hurt. There are far warmer climes and Mediterannean lifestyles to be had in this country. However, the man I met in Paris had a very good reason to move here to start working with the family business. This decision was certainly more considered than, "Well, okay then, why not..." but the move to Reims, specifically, was more about his opportunity than mine. But yes, I'm very happy that I signed up for this new adventure.

What are your thoughts on the welcome the people in Reims give you as apposed to Parisians?
This is actually a less obvious question than you might think. Sure, the stereotypical Parisians are pain in the arse people. The 'true' Parisians move in tight social packs and don't easily let anyone in. They are not like Londoners vs English, Parisians are more of a 'type' than anything I found in London. However, Paris is an international city and many 'Parisians' are not really Parisian. I was lucky to work in a young international company and most of my team weren't 'Parisian' and even lived outside the French norms. By that I mean they socialised outside of work and I made several enduring friendships from the office.

By contrast, if Reims was like many other provincial cities, you would consider the people to be welcoming and friendly. However, this is Reims. The Rémois are renowned for being bourgeoisie (despite the fact that the city has the highest amount of social housing per capita in the country) and are pretty cold. I was warned of this fact by my (Parisian) boss before I moved here, she had studied at the (highly rated) Business School and was shocked by the people's attitudes here. The friendly folks from the region next to us, Les Ardennes, constantly remark on how difficult they find the Rémois. We have been lucky in that we have 'instant entry' into local life through the in-laws. However, despite the fact that Frog grew up here, we have a very low key social life, and those friends we have are originally from other regions.

Is the cost of living reasonable given it's not as big as Paris?
I think the overall cost of living is lower here. However, you have more choice in Paris - meaning a larger selection for life at the more budget end and more free galleries, events, selection of restaurants, shops etc. But housing is certainly a lot cheaper in Reims.

Any advice to someone thinking of embarking on a life (even a temporary one) in Reims?
Reims is only 1 hours and 40 minutes from Paris. And from June we'll have the new TGV Est which will make Gare de l'Est just 45 mins from the door. So, you could look at it either way. You can easily escape to Paris, or base yourself in Paris and easily visit Reims. However, for all my complaining, I do like it here. The centre is small and charming, you might not immediately be made to feel like a local by others but it's very easy to find your way around quickly. Don't expect a rich cultural or diverse lifestyle, although if you dig just a little there are some interesting things going on.

Frog and I love to visit Paris. It constantly amazes me how I manage to forget what a wonderful place it is. Yet, I always travel back feeling the same way: I'm so pleased I came, but glad to be going back home to Reims.

Happy 2nd Blogday

2007-01-12T19:02:00.000+01:00

It's my second blogday. I wouldn't have noticed but someone trying to get me involved in some corporate blogging project (yes, I mean you Toshiba*) obviously had an eagle-eyed intern (who I hope has read this example of how not to behave with corporate blogs).

So, two years on, I'm still in France and that life in Paris, on January 2005, seems a long, long time ago. One move across the country, a wedding and oooh far too many lovely moments with my Frog to mention, I'm still here in my squalid little blogspot. It is far too neglected, I have composed a hundred posts in my head (usually at night when I'm trying to get to sleep) that never make it to the screen. But thank you for visiting and dipping in and out of this adventure with me and my idiosyncratic grammar. An added bonus is that my mum, my original reader and intended audience, is also still reading, even if she sometime gets a little neglected too by association.

I'll leave you tonight with this tale from Frog last night. It has nothing to do with my blog, or me but seems to nicely sum up the facet that living in a small provincial city brings with it - local bourgeoisie eccentrics who have lived in Reims all their lives.

Frog had bumped into the rather strange assistant to our solicitor, X. X and his wife were part of our wedding preparation group sessions with the priest last year and we have giggled at his rather odd behaviour before. Frog said that X told him he was rushing to catch Galeries Lafayette before it closed. He needed to buy some new underwear and they, apparently, have a wonderful selection. (Trust me, we have the lowest stocked Galeries Lafayette in the country). X wanted to catch the Russian saleswoman, who is excellent at helping with the selection of said underpants. This probably sounds a little sleazy. If you'd met X, it's not. He's just rather desparate to wear the right labels and do the best thing - and in Reims, I now know that means running to catch the Russian underwear saleswoman in Galeries Lafayette.

I do not tell this tale to be snobby. I tell it because it made me laugh.

* I am watching with interest simply to put you into a case study for one of my clients, I can just imagine the agency brainstorm this project came out of and the brand positioning they are trying to create. However, it's nice that someone wrote a personalised introduction to an email that she obviously had to send out to hundreds of researched blogs. I hope she made her target. Sadly, I do not think that I'm an opinion leader. That's in the second part of my mission to take over the world...

Late Starter

2007-01-11T13:45:00.000+01:00

Yes, I know 2007 started a good ten days ago but I'm having a bit of a delayed reaction. I admit to slumping a little in the overall mood stakes and have found it hard to find the energy to wish peace and goodwill to all, when struggling to find a reason to get out of bed.

But hey nonny nonny, onwards and upwards. I've spent the last couple of days trying to focus on getting ready for this year. A shorter new haircut, a facial (thanks Frog for the pampering spa vouchers) meant that even a doomed sales shopping trip today, when the changing room fluorescent lighting and small French sizes seemed to be conspiring against me, will not knock me back into the panic attack terrain that I slipped into last week.

So, pausing briefly to summarise 2006 with the comment written in one kind friend's Christmas Card, "I guess you'll have mixed feelings about the last year but at least the wedding was excellent!", let's move on swiftly to see what we have to look forward to in the first two months of 2007:

A freelance project lined up to start tomorrow (may they all follow quickly afterwards).

A trip to London to visit old colleagues (hire me for your short term needs now!); drink with old friends (yes, I'm still on the booze); visit best mate with her New Year baby (I will not cry) and plying the bubbly at Vive La France (try saying that without sounding cynical).

Another year, another Saint Vincent. This year the village celebrations are hosted by Frog Family. Let's see if the family members can all put on a smiling front and not kill each other in front of the hundreds of guests. There are, however, reasons to celebrate. The assemblage of a vintage 2006 has just been created, which apparently (I haven't been privy to the tastings) is of great quality.

Host another best mate jetting in from Brazil for a few days R&R, on her way to meetings in Europe. (She is the one who had a secret a couple of months back. Again, I repeat, I will not cry).

Trying not to inflict major bodily harm on Frog when he forgets to engage brain before mouth. His finest example yet came after seeing An Inconvenient Truth on New Year's Day, "Well, if you think about it, all of the earth's problems are fundamentally due to an explosion in the population and you're actually helping the environment". Yes, the resulting evening lurched between states of silence and screaming hysteria. Gah, men.

Travelling for more wine fairs in Amsterdam & Brussels. These are for professionals, which are always easier than consumer fairs. (I'm looking forward to seeing my friend Aaron's newly purchased flat in Amsterdam).

Ski-ing. Yes, a holiday. After "working 'is 'ands to the bone" through the crazy Christmas period, Frog is taking a holiday. Harvest to New Year is the busiest time in the industry and, being a small family business, that has translated into no time off for Frog since August (the French 35 hour week has no relation to life in a small family business). However, the good news is that they sold a record amount of bottles over the Christmas period and with February being the quietest month of the year, that's the month that we get to go away. We'll be off to Les Arcs to break a leg, or something, the first week of Feb followed by a trip home to Dorset.

I know it sounds as if we're really busy at the moment and I'm pleased that the next couple of months are packed but I really feel like I'm treading water at the moment. May 2007 unfold without any nasty surprises, that's all I can say.

Chez Nous

2006-12-23T19:25:00.000+01:00

Since I'm trying to put to the back of my mind the fact that we now have no dessert for our Christmas dinner (a disastrous early preparation session this afternoon, bloody, bloody Delia) and that I shall probably have nightmares after a real 'hack' job in trying to de-head the turkey (I'm all for knowing where your meat comes from, that's why I buy from the farm... I would just rather they did the dirty work), I interupt this panic session to take a seasonal photo tour of the flat.

Mum and D are arriving tomorrow lunchtime, so this is the last time it'll look tidy for a while!

Enter through the front door....

I bought the mistletoe and holly from a couple who regularly set up at the top of Rue de Vesle. The guy asked me how much I wanted to pay (it's Christmas and I'm a pretty lady, apparently!) which completely threw me. As I told him, I have no idea! He suggested €2 - 3, so with Christmas spirit and a sense of guilt, I handed over €5. A good business trick - though I don't think it'd work out that postively if I tried it out on my freelance clients.

Through the long narrow hall...

... and into the kitchen. Here you can find the reason why Frog should really come home when he says he's going to*. If he's late, he returns to find I ate all nearly all the home made sausage rolls and the two that are left are now lonely and cold:

If you had been in the kitchen about an hour ago you would have seen me freaking out over the turkey. I've spared you the close up of the head. Look away now if you're a veggie....

...

Into the living room, you can see the sparkly tree bought from Joachim, downstairs. It's handy living so close as he offered to bring it up to the second floor of our building ....

... now spot the swedish christmas horses that were a gift from a friend last year (thank you Jonas!) they now guard the christmas cards and oranges by the fireplace.

... pause to admire the old battered bookcase that I've cursed over the last couple of days, as I worked on reviving it with a couple of coats of cream paint, expertly multi-tasking, whilst watching The West Wing DVDs borrowed from the library.

Take a half pace across the room, past the Danish Christmas mobile (ahh, I remember the old days when I used to travel for business and buy little, local treats)...

... and to the final, second fireplace in the dining room, my New York mirror, decorated with the stars I bought for my first Christmas in Manhattan.

This is our first Christmas in Reims, nearly eighteen months after we moved in. We've been setting up the flat, little by little (there's some irony in the fact that when we first moved in, I had no time but a healthy salary and now lots of time and a limited income!) and there's a warm feeling to be had from seeing my home looking festive.

I have a couple hours of peace, whilst Frog freezes at the Stade de Reims. You'll find me on the sofa, digging into a tub of maltesers and enjoying the quiet!

* He's forgiven since he was buying my gift(s!) and in the village meeting a client. I have fared better than Mother Frog, Frog took a call from his father this afternoon, asking him to buy a gift to come from him to his wife. Apparently, I'm on wrapping duty. I reckon she might notice that the wrapping paper comes from our home...

Your Culinary Advice Required

2006-12-21T09:11:00.001+01:00

Miam miam!
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

So, here is the plan. Christmas Eve will be spent at the Frog Family home, enjoying a French style celebration. I know that the menu will include their traditional oysters; foie gras; roast something, that's not turkey and a buche de Noël (christmas log), .

The 25th will see the Frenchies joining my family at our flat. The idea was a traditional English Christmas lunch served as a dinner.

I find it highly amusing that just before Christmas, Mum usually takes off, with her friends, on a 24 hour hop across the channel to stock up on cheaper French delicacies that can be found in northern, industrial France's hypermarchés.

This year, she will be crossing the channel with shopping bags filled with English items that are difficult to find in France, including single and double cream; paxo stuffing; crackers; stilton; extra large turkey foil; parsnips and home made Christmas pudding.

I am now struggling to sort out the starter in our English menu. We'll just have one starter (Frog Mother provides two) and I think something smoked salmony would fit the bill. I was thinking smoked salmon with mini blinis, créme fraiche and lumpfish (i.e. cheap, pretend caviar). Easy to assemble, tasty and not too expensive. The problem is that when I mentioned this to Frog, he got all French and said "well maybe with some asparagus and little cherry tomatoes..."

What think Frog is forgetting, is that our English main course is so much heavier than a French one. In fact, when we eat this at the correct lunch hour (2pm), we can't usually face pudding until the evening. I think my solution is correct but I don't want the French getting sniffy.

Menu

- Starter
*********
- Roast Turkey with crispy bacon
- Roast Potatoes
- Brussel Sprouts with chestnuts
- Roast Parsnips
with
- Gravy
- Bread Sauce
- Cranberry Sauce
- Stuffing
*******
Selection of English & French cheeses with Port
*******
Choice of:
- Delia's Iced Chocolate Chestnut Creams with White Chocolate Sauce
- Christmas Pudding with Brandy Butter
*********
- Coffee & After Eight Mint

Tell me I'm being really stupid to worry about this....

Getting Back On Track

2006-12-19T15:55:00.000+01:00

I've been spending the last few days working on a freelance project. Whilst being really happy to have some work, and that this is quite an interesting assignment, it has sent me down an odd little emotional tunnel (again!). I'm working for the first time on pharmaceutical marketing - looking specifically at secondary breast cancer support for patients and carers. Yes, a real mood lifter!

So, I've stopped dreaming about deformed babies and am now dreaming about having reunions with family members, past and present, who are cancer sufferers. I'm just spellchecking the document this afternoon, so hope to bill them and quickly move onto more joyful times!

I'm pretty ready for Christmas now. Just a couple more gifts to buy and then I hope to do some baking and preparation for when the hoardes descend. Well, Mum and D anyway. We'll be going to Frog Family's house for Christmas Eve feasting and then there will be a return visit with eight of us around the table for a more English style Christmas Day meal. It'll be my first time doing turkey and the works and I'm hoping that Delia will be a reliable guide. The seating plan will need some engineering to ensure everybody has at least one person next to them who can speak their language. Once I've worked out what to serve as a starter, I'll post the menu. The 7kg turkey is ordered from a local farm in the Ardennes and will need collecting on Friday.

I came to the conclusion last night that I have, quite probably, married into a family that is more messed up than my own. At least with my paternal family I've gone through several decades of working out which relationships I can manage, and which will just have to shut up and make do without me. The issue, I have now discovered, with in-laws is that you don't have that freedom. I just have to continue in my passive-aggressive way, screaming when we're safely home and I'm in a calming, relaxing bath, chanting a mantra, 'It's their problem. Not mine. They're unhappy people. I am not'.

London

2006-12-13T12:00:00.000+01:00

After several days of muttering (I don't really want to travel... I don't want to be left alone for a weekend... I want to see my Mum.... I don't want her to have to drive over from England...) Saturday morning found me sat on the Eurostar with Frog on our way across to London.

He had a long standing meeting with an importer and I had planned on staying home, putting my feet up and taking it easy in my first trimester. Well, since my part of the plan had fallen apart, I had finally decided to head to London. Whilst Frog opted for his planned weekend with his mates, I made my way down to Peckham to meet Mum and squat in my sister and boyfriend's house whilst they took off for a four week Christmas break in the southern hempisphere.

I don't miss living in London but I do love visiting. Highlights as an expat visitor follow:

Watching a month's worth of QI episodes recorded on Sky Plus.

Managing to not completely lose it when sat in a pub surrounded by hundreds of screaming babies and children. My hunger overcame any other natural instinct.

Walking along the South Bank and feeling like a tourist taking photos.

Visiting St Paul's for the first time, after spending years passing it on the #8 bus.

Walking into the Tate Modern and realising that the new "Slides" installation was not a series of colour images but real "wheeeeeee" slides.

The look on Frog's face, just for that split second, when I told him that I had nearly texted him to tell him I was leaving him for "another man".

Sitting in a pub in Peckham, eating a Sunday roast with Mum and realising that my best friend from home from the ages of 11 - 13 years, who I hadn't seen since she left Wimborne and moved to Norwich with her family, was sitting at the table next to us.

Eating a coconut pyramid, just like my Grandma used to make, with my large latte whilst waiting for a friend in Covent Garden.

Having lunch in my friend's very cool member's bar and (whilst being very pleased to see her and remembering that I used to work in this industry) being more cheesily impressed when I realised that Strictly Come Dancing is filmed in the studios there.

Meeting a grumpy Frog back at Eurostar on Monday afternoon, who had turned up to his meeting and found that his importer was off with the flu.

Alright that last one wasn't a highlight of the weekend but the reason we both went to London never happened and yet we both had a much needed escape.

I came back with a renewed energy, I have now cleaned our once neglected flat to a sparkling level and feel ready to take on Christmas!

Little Saint Nick

2006-12-06T16:02:00.001+01:00

Little Saint Nick
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

I had this little brioche Saint Nicholas with a milky coffee for breakfast on my birthday last week. One of his currant eyes seems to have slipped but he tasted delicious, nonetheless. My birthday, as my American friends would say, sucked big time. I had had an early scan the day before to check the progress of a new 7 week pregnancy. The results weren't good and so I spent last Friday anticipating my second miscarriage in the space of three months.

The good news is that it has been less physically traumatic than the last one. The bad news is... the bad news. So, no birthday trip to Paris, no concert, no James, a cancelled highway code test and so on and so forth.

I'd like to write a deep and meaningful post, but the truth is I'm a bit numb to it all at the moment. I shall, instead, retreat back to my favoured position of lying on the sofa watching DVDs.

High and Low

2006-11-29T17:47:00.000+01:00

A couple of years ago, I mentioned my duvet coat. The photo below was taken of me, in said duvet coat, this time last year. It was snowing in Reims, we had friends to stay for the weekend and it was a little parky.Contrast that with the fact that this week, people have been wandering around the city in jumpers or light jackets. A peak of 18°C was reported on Saturday. Madness, I tell you. I love the sun, but this doesn't feel right.

I've had a fairly quiet couple of weeks. The news I shouldn't share, as it's sure to jinx things, is that I have been getting good marks in my Highway Code practice tests. After a shakey start in July, I had a bit of a break over August and September and started to work on it again last month. I've been pencilled in for the exam towards the end of December. The best score I've had this week is 37/40. The worst is 29/40. All on the same day. I think I need to find some consistency.

To continue my high and low theme for this post, I'll share the list of films and books which I've been busy devouring over the last week. Swings of cheese and laughs through to wrist slitting despair:

We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. Utter utter darkness. Why on earth would I read this when I'm thinking about pregnancy? I have no idea. But it was excellent.
Bergdorf Blondes by Plum Sykes. I know, I know. But I'd just finished Kevin and it made me feel better.
Babel I don't believe it's out in the US or the UK yet. It won the prize for best director at Cannes this year. It has an all star cast and is set in Calfornia, Mexico, Morocco and Tokyo. If you've seen Amores Perros or 21 Grams, it's the same style of interweaving stories from Alejandro Gonzàlez Inàrritu . And it's very bleak. In retrospect I can see it was a brilliant film with ourstanding performances and brave global themes. However, at the time I just wanted to get out as I sunk further and further into misery.
Désaccord Parfait I loved this light comedy starring French favourites Charlotte Rampling and Jean Rochefort. Yes, I know Charlotte Rampling is English but the French adore her. Rochefort hams it up a little (alright, a lot). It was directed by Antoine de Caunes (R..r..r..apiiiidoooo and Eurotrash for those who remember it on UK TV) but he's a member of a French TV industry dynasty and I think (as the film and his UK TV history shows) he understands British humour. Okay, it was very cheesy. But I laughed.
Fast Food Nation If you read the book, you'll understand where the film's coming from. It was pas mal, but felt like it was lacking something. Oh, and it's another depressing look at the world picture.

Next weekend we're in Paris. It's my birthday and we have tickets to to a concert on Friday evening. Before returning to Reims on the Saturday, we're going to see James in version originale. Now, that will be a high!

Mulling it over

2006-11-16T12:58:00.000+01:00

I've been suffering from restless nights for the past week. Any slightly worrying thought that can, seems to pop into my head and refuse to budge, whilst I toss and turn half-way between dreamlike thoughts and consciousness.

Last night I had the most awful realisation that kept me awake for hours but we'll have to jump back two days for the source of the problem.

Tuesday afternoon, I had carried out my good deed for the week, welcoming a young French woman into our flat. Brigitte is a troubled first year Med student. Apparently, despite ending up in the top percentile of her year, she has gotten herself into a nervous wreck and is working herself into a deep depression about being unable to cope with the workload.

Her Mum, a friend of Frog Family, is now very worried about her daughter's health and called me up to ask if I would mind helping her daughter with the obligatory English coursework that she has to complete. Having been in that situation myself (not in the top percentile of Med school, but getting myself into a state and having a great Mum to pull me through), I was more than happy to invite Brigitte to the flat that afternoon.

She had a ten minute oral presentation to prepare and had already written out her notes. The subject was the History of Christmas and we spent a couple of hours going through her papers, correcting some of the grammar, vocab and confirming pronunciation.

Now, my immediate reaction was that she's clearly an overachiever. Whilst her notes had a few standard French speaker's mistakes, it was all in pretty good shape and when she spoke she had a good accent. My second reaction was, my English has gone to pot!

I'm so used to hearing French versions of sentence structure (in French or from Frog's version of English) that I struggled to impose an English structure on her work!

We got through the work, and I hope I encouraged her confidence a little by the time she left. I had no worries that she would do well in her presentation on Thursday.

So, fast forward to last night at 4am. For some reason this was the moment when I suddenly realised that I had not corrected her final sentence. Her humorous conclusion is a comment on drinking during the season. She wrote 'hot wine' and I had neither noticed nor corrected this to 'mulled wine'.

Why it took 48 hours to realise this I don't know. What I do know is that I need to concentrate a little on my English skills. I can't be crap in two languages - one of them has got to give!

Original Version

2006-11-14T10:51:00.000+01:00

If you want to see a film in Reims you have three options. You could jump in your car and drive to fifteen minutes to one of the commercial parks and the huge Gaumont multiplex, where every film is shown in French or dubbed into French; you could stroll down the Place d'Erlon and pay to enter the smaller Gaumont, where every film is shown in French or dubbed into French; or you could stop at the top of the Place d'Erlon and hand over €7 to see a film shown in its original language, be it French, English, Italian... with French subtitles.

The Cinéma Odéon is Reim's Cinéma Art & Essai, or what I would call an arthouse cinema. They'll show American blockbusters and French arthouse alongside more exotic programming and series of foreign films. The common thread is that are all shown in version originale (vo). In the last month, Frog and I have seen Flags of Our Fathers, Black Dahlia and Scoop. Nevermind that the last two were very average films, it's our cinema. I'm happy to see a French French film, but don't ask me to watch a film dubbed in French (version français - vf). It's disconcerting to see an old familiar face open their mouth and another person's voice appear.

Our concern is this - the owner of the Opéra cinema (built by architects Thion and Rousseau in 1923) is reported as being open to offers on the lease which runs out next year. He says that its 130,000 visitors per year makes it unprofitable and that the space is not workable. In addition to the smaller salles, there is one huge screening salle (sith a beautiful ceiling) which is either freezing in the winter (we are now used to watching films with our coat and gloves still on) or baking in the summer and there is no central space for exhibitions and a café. The owner has had enough.

The city of Reims has replied by saying that Reims will not lose its Cinéma Art & Essai but that another more suitable, central building needs to be found. There are mutterings that the disused and decaying covered market (built 1927-1928) might be an option. My fear is that even once a decision is made (and decisions are never made quickly) the speed of works here are so snail like, we will be cinema-less for a long time and the Opéra will be turned into another soulless shopping mall inhabited by tatty shoe shops.

(Mis)Communication

2006-11-11T12:12:00.000+01:00

So, there I was last night, getting ready to go out and see this beautiful and majestic performance by Raghunath Manet*, when my instant messanger pinged. I was really happy to see it was my dear friend, who now lives a long, long way away.

We hadn't spoken in ages, so she regaled me with the fact that she's spent the last couple of weeks in bed with a virus. Family members were apparently summoned to come and look after her as she was really knocked out by the lurgey.

Verbatim:

Me:
so, are you feeling better?
Her:
yes... I just found out some news that I am not
supposed to share but I am dying.

Now, what would you think? My stomach flipped, a million thoughts raced through my head... I know she's had a couple of operations in the last year... have they found a tumour?

I thought for several seconds, and just replied with a single question mark. Could I get out and see her soon? I think I could stretch to an airfare if she's really sick.

A seemingly long pause

Her:
I don't want to make you feel bad but i am 6 weeks pregnant with TWINS
Me:
ahhh - that's fab
Her:
crazy.

Crazy indeed. I could have killed her!

She'll read this and think I'm a big dork for that misunderstanding! But I'm really thrilled for her, she miscarried at the same time as me so it looks like our luck could be turning.

Anyway, my dear, I hope I've hidden your identity well enough until the 12 weeks reveal. Fingers crossed!

* If this guy ever shows up in your town, make an effort to go. He combines an electric interpretation of southern indian classical dance, with dancers and musicians. I loved the fact he took the time out to explain the origins of the movements and music. This dancing Shiva from Pondicherry provided quite a culture shock in Reims!

New Occupation

2006-11-04T19:02:00.000+01:00

I have a new daily occupation, that of 'boob prodder'. Naturally, there are other things that I can be found doing in and around Reims. You might find me sat in front of the computer, tapping away on the odd freelance project that comes swinging my way; you might see me sat, sulking, in a classroom as I continue to battle with the French highway code; I can also be found pottering around the local library, wondering which annoying person is hogging the DVD volume 4, series 1 of Nip/Tuck that I've been waiting to see for weeks.

However, the one consistent task I seem to have adopted, is the prodding of the boobs. The first pregnancy kind of crept up on me - it was planned but not expected so quickly. So, the boob soreness realisation was pretty much the same day that I was sat in the doctor's surgery, being prescribed a confirmation blood test.

The day the soreness disappeared was also the day that I was stuck in the Early Pregnancy Unit at King's Hospital, London being told by a very sweet, young doctor, that there was no heartbeat to be seen on the scan.

This time of course, the cycles are plotted, and the weeks are dragging out. And so I prod my boobs. I don't think I do it in public. I rather hope not. And there will come a point when I will have to wonder if the soreness is the real early symptom or simply a result of over zealous prodding...

Would you buy a bottle of champagne...

2006-10-31T15:03:00.000+01:00

... from someone with dodgy French language skills?*

This was the question Frog and I were pondering, as we drove up to the borderlands of Belgium & France.

Frog is testing out several different types of sales channels for the champagne and since the house has never really gone into the world of salons or fairs, this is virgin territory for us both.

First up was a professional fair in London in September. If you discount the fact that was the day I began to miscarry, it all went very well. Wine buyers from the worlds of restaurants, distributers and retail came and sampled the family champagne. We had very positive feedback and have followed up with several solid sales prospects in the UK.

The bonus in London was that I could speak to my fellow countrymen whilst digging into some of my marketing skills and knowledge of the family house. Frog is fluent in English and relishes every opportunity to show off his ability.

Let's fast forward to last weekend, a first salon public... in Belgium. The plan was that this was a low key event where we could make our mistakes. I would do the running around, washing of glasses, keep note of sales etc., whilst Frog would do the sales spiel. The reality of course is that when you have hundreds of Wallonies wanting to get their €5 worth of entrance fee in free champagne tasting, you have to roll up the proverbial linguistic sleeves and get stuck in.

I am proud to say that I coped gallantly and even sold a decent amount of bottles myself, in between running to wash the stack of flutes at the tap set up at the back of the exhibition hall. It was a bonus to meet some lovely people from all over France who travel to sell their foods and wines. It was like eating all your favourite holiday foods in one place. We also found some friendly locals, although, the downside of a salon public is that you meet all the public. Including those you'd usually rather avoid.

Highlights

Being situated next to a charcuterie stand from Les Ardeches, whose owner kept passing over a variety of saucissons for us to graze on during the day.
A lunch of foie gras sandwiches, bought from the flirty trio of guys from the Périgord.
The entertainment provided by the two hot tempered Basque girls. By Sunday evening, they were being dragged apart, screaming obscenities at each other, that I imagine were Euskara.

Lowlights

Handing over €700 in duties to the 'resident' Belgian customs man, who was more chunky knit cardigan and loafers than crisp HM Customs' uniform. Apparently the several flutes of champagne he consumed during the weekend didn't sweeten him up enough.
Frog pissing off the local celebrity and animateur of the salon, Pierrot of Lille by asking "And who are you?". Consequently, Frog had to later grovel and offer champagne, which led to him coming to our stand and interviewing Frog with a microphone. (Result: a huge crowd of Pierrot's followers crowding around the little stand and probably accounting for a good proportion of the weekend's sales.)
My sore aching feet.

* According to my Mum, it's also my English linguistic skills that are failing. Thank goodness the digital red pen doesn't exist yet...

Wobbly

2006-10-21T16:16:00.000+02:00

I found these cards on this site, courtesy of Daily Candy. It almost made me laugh, but not quite, since I was having a bit of a wobbly day yesterday. Anyhoo... My mum is, as we 'speak', driving down the A26 from Calais to Reims, to spend part of her half-term holidays chez nous. I can't believe that I haven't seen her since the wedding in May. Thank goodness for Skype, is all I can say.

I plan on using Mum's visit as an excuse to indulge in all the 'non-champagne' tourist visits that I haven't managed to do in the last year. It's the year of celebrating Art Deco in Reims, so expect an 'Art Deco Guide to Reims' post some time soon.

In fact, to start the tourist theme, here's a photo from last night's inauguration of the new lighting of the cathedral. The city seems to have cottoned onto the fact that our UNESCO World Heritage site has been woefully treated. A multi-million project to light the cathedral has finally been completed and we joined hundreds of other Remois on the parvis last night to watch the switching on ceremony. Our mayor spoke surprisingly eloquently and the 'unveiling' was gradual, the illuminations being introduced in phases, accompanied by a group from the local music conservatoire. The music was relayed by speakers all around the outside of the cathedral, so that you could wander around and take in the results. It was a great atmosphere and quite spectacular (I shed a tear and got emotional but that's probably just my raging hormones again). My photos, without a much needed tripod, didn't do it justice.

Blimey...

2006-10-11T18:25:00.000+02:00

... at the Nyetimber vineyard the English pickers get stools to sit on! You certainly wouldn't see that occurring in any of the vines in this region.

Seeing this photo today, I was reminded that we were given a bottle of this prize winning, English sparkling wine as an engagement gift from a couple of friends in England. Nyetimber retails at a very high price (over £25/€36) and there has been much talk about how they beat the quality of a large Champagne house in blind tastings. Well, they probably do rival some producers, as not every champagne house produces the highest quality. (And, at that price I should hope that it is a quality product.)

We put the gift aside and opened it one afternoon when we had Frog Mother, Father, Aunt and Uncle around for Sunday lunch. Everyone had a good taste and agreed it went down very well. However, once the mouthful was finished, there was something missing. It took us a while to put our finger on what that was. Finally, we realised that what this was was a lack of a certain taste, that infamous terroir that the French talk about, a familar note wasn't to be found in the English wine.

Of course, this was no blind tasting and the panel were a little biased (and somewhat keen to move to the table for lunch). However, if I showed Father Frog a photo of the English pickers, sat on stools, any credibility this wine had mustered would disappear in a flash!

Escape

2006-10-09T18:24:00.000+02:00

Basque Evening 2
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

I like wedding gifts. Especially those that you can save for times when you need a bit of a pick up. We took advantage of the gift voucher for a weekend in the south-west and zoomed off on Friday in the TGV from Paris, destination South-West France.

Two nights and three days of discovery in an area that was new to Frog and me. Things that I found out:

Frog can comfortably put away five cakes in one day.
I can happily eat confit de canard every night, if offered.
If you order a rather rough local red, you don't notice after the first couple of mouthfuls. That is, as long as you don't try and taste it but swallow it down quickly. You can pleasantly manage a whole bottle that way.
We'll both believe we're exercising the food away by wandering around our temporary weekend home town.
Even a small branch of the largest bank in France (probably) blends into the local style.
The Salies de Béarn salt water has many uses, we enjoyed taking advantage of being pampered with the mineralising spa treatments.
We didn't giggle too much at the sight of each other wrapped up in hot mud packs.
The Atlantique's waves provide a surfer's paradise.
You can spend a Sunday afternoon sunbathing in the city of Biarritz followed by a stroll around an art exhibition.
If your stomach is big enough, it can stretch to one final Basque meal before heading back on a night train and couchette to Reims via Paris.

Surrender

2006-10-02T15:09:00.000+02:00

This weekend was the first following the successful harvest. Traditionally, this means having no plans, enjoying a lie-in and indulging in general slobbiness, which Frog and I relish. Except this year all the family were summoned to the village for an official meeting, Saturday 9am, to discuss the future of the House. For reasons of family discretion, I will have to save publishing any details of this, the latest part of the saga, for the book that deserves to be written, covering the highs and lows of a family viticulture business in this region.

By, the time Saturday had been taken up by an analysis of the morning's events, Sunday morning rolled around and we were still uptight so didn't manage a lie-in then, either. Once up, we enjoyed a long walk in the autumnal sunshine, through the city.

Reims is where the Germans surrendered to to the Allied Expedition in 1945. I've blogged about this before but we've never visited the place where the document was signed.

The headquarters of Eisenhower's allied forces were based in one of the local high schools, now named Lycée Franklin Roosevelt. So, it's here that a little museum has been created, and the original room preserved. Frog might have sat a couple of exams there, but had never visited the rooms.

There was something a little humbling about seeing the small class room and simple museum. A basic exhibition of photos showed Reims under occupation and documentation of its subsequent liberation. It's a relatively small city and there was a moment of realisation for me that, yes of course, the Square des Vicitimes de la Gestapo is placed just around the corner from our flat because that's where the Gestapo HQ was. And an 'oh' moment upon seeing a shot of the (then) sous-préfet of Reims smiling with Eisenhower. The sous-préfet shared not only the same family name as our current (somewhat derided) Mayor, but the same facial profile. Must be a family member we agreed*. Photos of the procession of the liberating forces show tanks rolling down our street alongside the café that Frog and I have a Friday evening coupe with our neighbour, the florist.

Strolling back home early evening and greeting another neighbour as we neared the flat, I realised that I'm getting to know my little city much better. I don't just live here, I feel like I'm becoming more a part of the city. This isn't another place that I'm passing through, this is where my life is and all plans for the future lie. It's a good feeling.

*Wikipedia tells me the sous-préfet was the father whose brother was one of the local victims of the Gestapo.

Champagne Harvest

2006-09-27T15:58:00.000+02:00

Champagne Harvest
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

Yes, it's over!

Of the six and a half days spent harvesting nine hectares of vines, I spent half of that working in the house. I know that grape picking is back breaking work but so is helping to feed 50 plus workers twice a day and clean up around them. I now have to sleep some....

You can see the set of photos here.

Peekaboo

2006-09-20T18:24:00.000+02:00

Peekaboo
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

Yes, it's that time of year again. The period when my day begins with a 6am alarm and I cover my head with a pillow to muffle the noises of Frog disappearing out of the flat. He usually reappears at about 8pm and manages a couple of sentences before collapsing comatose for the rest of the night.

I've popped backwards and forwards to the family house over the last couple of days. My freelance work has piled up over the last week, so I've needed focus on that. Although it's nice to be at the house during what is an exciting time, after a couple of hours I start to feel the family tensions and am happy to escape again!

There are over fifty workers (tenfold the usual employee number) that descend for the vendanges. A good fifteen of whom are housed in spare rooms. This year we have a couple of Polish families who have driven over to work . Only one of them speaks (excellent) French and I amuse myself by overhearing the other French and Poles attempt to communicate in broken English. A lot of the French guys seem to be motivated to practice their English by a rather stunning 6ft blonde Polish girl!

I joined everyone last night for dinner, during which we toasted the wedding anniversary of one of the Polish couples and were taught a Polish drinking/celebration song. Needing no excuses, the French began to reply with their own songs. Yes, I am enjoying the ability to drink champagne again!

So far the quality of the grapes is very good, with several of the larger vines producing high natural sugar contents. I'm told that we may be looking at a vintage.

I'll spend time in the next couple of days taking some photos to record Harvest 2006. In the meantime, 2005's images can be found here.

The hardest part...

2006-09-15T12:18:00.000+02:00

... of living is giving back what's been given.

I heard this lyric today on a Radio 4 interview with Billy Bragg and it struck a chord, for reasons that will become clearer. I quickly grabbed a post it note and scribbled those words down. Lying in the bath I then thought about the flip side of this and how I've spent a large part of the last few days looking at a view from my sofa and thinking how happy I am with my life.

So, these are a few of my favourite things:

Map
Frog and I bought this map in Argentina last year. We had just visited the Missiones in the north of the country, before going to a best friend's wedding in Buenos Aires. I found the old map of the region in a handmade paper shop in the capital and framed it upon our return to Reims. We still haven't got around to hanging any of our frames so it sits propped up on the mantelpiece.

Photos
There are two photo frames here. Frog doesn't seem to want photos of his family around (I guess we see more than enough of them!) but I like to have mine around. The silver frame shows two older photos, one of me and my little half-brother in 1994. We're in a pool in Majorca and I was teaching him to swim. I think it's the only time we've been on holiday together. Next to it is a photo of me, my Grandma, my Mum and my sister. It was my Grandma's 80th birthday and her cousins were visiting. We're sat on my Grandma's sofa and it captures the moment after the main photo flash had gone off. My Grandma is looking at my sister and my Mum is looking at me, whilst my sister and I look ahead. We're all smiling and there's a beautful symmetry to the picture.

The second photo frame is a recent purchase, taken at our wedding by my friend Aaron. The photo is my sister, me, Frog and my half-brother. I know that everyone was feeling the chill from the wind that afternoon, but adrenaline and champagne are a potent mix and I felt fine!

Art Postcards
If this were a photo in our study, you would strain to see the books past the postcards that I hoard and prop up on the shelves. The ones that have made it to the living room are a picture of cherry blossom trees, that was an Easter card from Mum, and a Christmas card showing the work of this man.

Singing Bear
Frog and I fell in love with this bear on our honeymoon. He was made by an Inuit sculptor from Cape Dorset. He looks drunk and happy and, even if it broke the bank a little, there was no way we could leave him behind.

Pink Lilies
I bought these on Monday, two days after I miscarried at nearly ten weeks of pregnancy. It was a missed miscarriage and the heart had stopped beating a couple of weeks earlier. I can't explain how I feel because by the time I finish writing this sentence it'll have changed again. I do know that today I feel physically stronger than two days ago and emotionally stronger than yesterday. I love these lilies, they were all in bud at the beginning of the week and have now flowered, filling the flat with a strong fragrance.

I hadn't blogged for a while as I was desparately trying to keep the wonderful news that we received at the beginning of the summer to ourselves, until we reached the twelve weeks mark. There are many friends I haven't told yet, and I hope they forgive me if they find out through this post. I might not blog for a while, unless harvest next week throws up inspiration.

Driving Home

2006-08-21T15:53:00.000+02:00

Rainbow
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

You really know it's the end of the holidays when this is the sight that greets you as you approach home!

So a Top Ten (in no particular order) from nearly three weeks holiday:

- Having the family summer house and pool to ourselves in 30° heat
- Not getting up before 10:30am
- Nigel's Baked aubergine with pine nuts, feta cheese and mint
- Reading through 10 books provided courtesy of Reims public library's foreign literature shelves
- Catching up on the celebrity gossip courtesy of Voici and Public
- Ice creams at La Rhumerie on the port of Cavalaire
- Reading my first French book from beginning to end
- Jumping from the car on the motorway, near Lyon, before it burst into flames, conveniently close to Frog's best man's home
- Staying with friends for a weekend in Amsterdam on Prinsengracht
- Cycling along the canals of Amsterdam in the last cooler rays of the summer sun

Packing

2006-08-02T14:40:00.000+02:00

Sundial Var
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

After a lazy couple of weeks in the heat, a cooler breeze has arrived just in time to send us off on holiday. We'll be leaving tonight for two weeks in the Var. It's a long drive through the night to reach the south-east corner of France and Frog is currently napping in preparation. I am meanwhile avoiding the last of the ironing and wondering if the ten books I took out of the library will be enough to keep me going, when farniente is the only plan we have for these vacances.

I also have Kristin Espinasse's Words in a French Life included in the tower of books. I'm a fan of her website, A French Word A Day, even though I do sometimes wonder if we are living in the same country, given that the differences between our regions are often larger than the similarities. I like her style of writing and the fact she doesn't rely on oft-used cliches to conjour up Provence. I also have a little feeling of smugness when I realise I know most of the words now, which I didn't a couple of years ago.

I'll just remind myself that the last report on the family house pool was a temperature of 31°. That will be my motivation for the last of the T-shirts awaiting the iron.

Bonnes vacances à tous!

Match Report

2006-07-24T14:07:00.000+02:00

Friday was hot. Thirty-six degrees kind of hot and the only question was not, will there be a storm but when will there be a storm.

Frog called me during the afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to the stade tonight. Father Frog had just got his annual abonnement and the first match of the season was kicking off in a friendly derby against Sedan.

Now, I don't know much about football. Of course, I follow the international matches but that's not the same as following a Ligue. Especially a Ligue 2 team. Stade de Reims was once a mighty side. That was in the days when Father Frog would cycle the 20 kms from the village to the stade to watch the games. Yes, that'll be over 40 years ago. Having gone bankrupt in the early 90's, the red and whites now languish in the lower end of the second division and the times I've seen a match covered on TV, even I can recognise the low, painful standard of football.

But with one free ticket and the cost of an accompanying ticket priced at €5 (yes, five euros) who's going to pass that one up?

It ended up being one of the best evenings out we've had in a while, and certainly one of the cheapest! The new stadium is half built and we had seats right next to the pitch. Reims' opponents are local rivals who were promoted to the First Division last year, so there was some tension at this derby. But imagine everyone's surprise when the new signings showed some real mettle and at one point Reims was leading 2-1!

By the final whistle it was a draw 2-2 and everyone was thrilled with the result. Even me. Yeah, I know, shocking.

We'd sat watching with Father Frog's friend who recounted the glory days of the club and said he felt that there might be a chance again in the future. For my part, I was very happy to sit in an open stadium on a sweltering hot evening but trust me, I won't be out there once the winter begins. That's for the passionés!

As Far As The Eye Can See

2006-07-19T17:23:00.000+02:00

Vines
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

Yes, it's hot here too. 36° yesterday, but I'm not finding it too hard this year. Reims is a small city and the flat seems to be bearable if you keep the shutters down . Of course, venturing outside is like someone turned the hairdryer on you. But at least there aren't the pollution levels of a larger city. Having survived summers in Paris 2003 and Manhattan with no aircon, Reims seems like a doddle.

They say if you want something done, ask someone who's busy. I'll go along with that. My key accomplishment this last week was the weekend's walks with the Frog. We took an evening stroll late Friday afternoon and then on Sunday night took the 4 x 4 out into the vines. All the local villages are linked up through stony tracks that run alongside the parcels of vines. We visited the various vines that are Frog Family's to see how they're doing. If 2003's summer is anything to go by, the heat will mean a slighly lower volume harvest but an excellent quality. Well that's what I'm told anyway.

The set of photos can be seen here.

My only other news is of my afternoons spent locked in a classroom with a bunch of French teenagers, all taking classes in the highway code. It's becoming unbearable. And having started with decent marks, I have to be the only student who's seeing a deterioration in their scores. 35 degree heat, no ventillation and French pedantry. Yes, that seems like a decent enough excuse.

Qui ne saute pas...

2006-07-08T11:46:00.000+02:00

Since England went out, I have been standing beside my husband and supporting France. I wouldn't if England were playing against them - but ummm they're not - and it seems the right thing to do. The way I see it is if the French keep me up until 2am with their celebrations, I might as well join in. And I have experience in supporting a non-winning side to draw from should everything go wrong.

I've also come to understand why the first summer I met Frog he woke up one morning, beaming to tell me that he'd had the most wonderful dream. He had been playing football and he was Zinedine Zidane being cheered on by the stadium. That is every Frenchman's fantasy.

However, whilst les bleus have my support tomorrow there are some limits.

Frog (chanting): Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Français, -ais!
Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Français, -ais!

Do you understand what that means?

Oiseau: Do you see me getting out of my chair?
Frog: No, do you understand what that means?*

Oiseau raises eyebrows

Frog: Oh.

* Whoever isn't jumping, isn't French

Q.E.D

2006-07-05T10:21:00.000+02:00

I have lived long enough now in this country to stop getting wound up about everytime French customer service is lacking. There are so many other benefits to living here, you just have to live with the fact that the customer is very, very rarely right in the minds of those employed in the French service industry.

However, I do have to share with you a couple of pieces of recent communication courtesy of Air France and American Airlines. A perfect case study, some might say, in the extremes of these two nations.

I had contacted both companies to request a name change on their frequent flier programmes that I belong to. The American Airlines process was completed online. Air France, having failed to reply to my intial online query of what documentation was required, are replying to a letter that I sent along with a copy of my marriage certificate.

Both replies were received on the same day.

Madame

Nous avons bien reçu votre demande.

Pour nous permettre d'effectuer cette mise à jour, nous vous invitons à nous retourner un justicatif d'identité.

Nous vous remercions de votre fidélité et vous prions d'agréer, Madame, nos
salutations distinguées.
(Quick translation: Thanks for your request, in order to complete this update please send us a piece of identification. Yours sincerely.... )

Good Morning Mrs. Lxxxx,
Thank you for your e-mail. I'm delighted to help.
Congratulations on your marriage.
As requested, I have changed the name on your account.
Again, thank you for giving me the opportunity to respond. I look forward to assisting you in the future.
Have a great day and nice holiday.
Regards, Ms. P. Lee AAdvantage Customer Service American Airlines
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Oh, how I chortled... then cursed as I had to trot off to the Post Office and send another letter and photocopy to Air France.

Supporters

2006-06-28T10:22:00.000+02:00

We knew we had to plan a weekend in London soon. There's a lovely pile of wedding gifts to collect from John Lewis, an ailing relative to visit and a friend's birthday to celebrate, so after many emails and text messages flying across the channel we organised this weekend away.

When we found out that England would be playing their quarter-final match on Saturday afternoon, our schedule became a little clearer. What better than to watch the game in a London pub with our friends.

We never even contemplated that France would have any more games after last night's Spanish game. However, after a nail biting game (well for the Frog at least) I'm pleased at France's result: my husband is happy, the city of Reims is happy (if the procession of noise and cars into the early hours of the morning is anything to go by) and even Zizou's goal made me smile.

So now our Saturday evening is booked to watch France play Brazil. Frog already knows some French friendly corners of the English capital which is where we'll move to after the England game.

It's highly unlikely that both nations will make it through those matches. But. But. If they do it's an England vs France semi-final.

Bugger! Or to quote Frog:

"That's not something that would break our marriage up is it?.... Is it?"

Reunion

2006-06-26T14:55:00.000+02:00

We were the last to arrive and the first to leave and still we spent nearly ten hours at a family reunion in the Ardennes. It was Frog Father's cousin's 70th birthday and about 30 of the family members had gathered in a small village sports hall for lunch. We were a motley crew, including a snail farmer, two wine-makers and several farmers. Plus a young French girl just back from her agricultural work experience year in Australia, love sick for her long distance boyfriend and desperate to practice her English.

Anyway, I'm not sure when I'll stop listening to Frog who says, "We'll just stop by for lunch and then we'll..." and instead remember the truth which is that this is a day long affair!

So "lunch" yesterday consisted of:
===========

Champagne & Petits Fours
Melon* with Dried Ham
Filet of Pike Perch
Apricot Sorbet
Beef en croute with asparagus, dauphinois potatoes & tomatoes provençale
Selection of Cheeses & Salad
Plate of 4 different desserts

Coffee

Accompanied by three different wines and two different champagnes.

* a whole charentais melon each

===========

A few hours later this was followed by a cold buffet, including a choice of six different homemade desserts.

So. What happened outside of the six hours of eating? Well, I suddenly found myself nursing my coffee, looking up to see everybody around the table waiting to hear my answer. The question that had been posed was from Father Frog and his son who were looking for my back-up . "You really want to watch the football don't you?" and as an aside to the other family guests "Well, England's playing, you know".

So I provided the cover (and yes, I did want to see it but no, my mother brought me up with better manners than that) for the trio of us to head towards a distant cousin's house in the village.

Within twenty minutes, Father Frog was asleep on the sofa and Mother Frog had joined us since she was too embarassed to venture into the village fete with her red wine splattered white trousers.

The English team might have provided us with an extremely boring match but it was a refreshing interlude from the humid foodfest going on a few hundred yards up the road. Additionally, since we hadn't seen Mother and Father Frog for the last week (whilst they were on holiday) it gave us some time to plan Father Frog's dinner schedule for the next five nights whilst Mother Frog is in hospital for a shoulder operation and afterwards when she's recovering at home.

My services duly loaned out, I'll be planning my own dinner menus for the next couple of weeks when the family will have to get used to cooking English style!

French Male Pride

2006-06-23T16:02:00.000+02:00

I wrote a post about Frog's French male pride and the bumps it's taken this week from a couple of incidents. Nothing serious at all - just the stuff that puts a Frog in a huffy mood for a few days and had me pondering a little.

Then, I re-read what I had written and decided he wouldn't be happy if I shared those thoughts on a blog.

So, whilst I don't usually support the French national football team in any shape or form (The Socceroos are proving to be the only side I'm willing to loan my allegiance to) I do hope that the team (sans Zizou) walk off the pitch tonight with an ounce of pride. If only to make this weekend a little lighter in mood chez nous!

"Allez les bleus" Shhhhhhhh!

Newly Weds

2006-06-15T17:00:00.000+02:00

Newly Married
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

So at first I put my blogging activity (or lack of) down to how busy I was organising the wedding and newly set up working consultant status.

I'm not one of those bloggers who enjoys using the 'personal' dramas as stimulus for writing. Things were all going to plan in the wedding preparations, however, if I'd blogged I would have focused on the inevitable parts that don't quite go to plan.

So, now I'm back and happy and enjoying getting life together in Reims... And I still haven't blogged!

Petit à petit I will get back to some routine. For now enjoy a few photos from the many (300!) that were taken on our road trip.

And I'll also link to this fantastic singer, Pierre Lapointe, that we discovered whilst tuning into Québécois radio. He'll break France soon so have a listen first!

Somewhat Occupied!

2006-05-22T17:12:00.000+02:00

Yes, I've been somewhat occupied the last month or so but I'm back! At least for just a few minutes to present the first photo of the new Madame & Monsieur.

Truly a happy, happy day. Our wonderful families and friends joined us and after days of torrential rains even the sky cleared to give us some precious sunshine as we exited the church in Reims. Friends from across six continents joined us back in the village for food, champagne and lots and lots of dancing!

Must dash now to pack for the honeymoon. We leave tomorrow morning and I'm looking forward to sleeping on the plane and then spending two weeks driving through Quebec with my husband and reliving the last few days' memories.

It all starts here!

Spitting

2006-04-05T18:13:00.000+02:00

I've had a post boiling up inside for the last few days. I'm full of the frustrations of the ongoing CPE saga, trying to register to work independently and discovering it would be far easier to declare myself unemployed. Poor Frog has been dragged to four different Government offices to try and ensure that this is dealt with quickly and efficiently, which was his own idea (though he's fast trying to disown it). And I have been standing, glowering at the view of 1000's of students marching past the flat because they think they deserve not to work whilst the rest of the country goes on strike.

I'm cynical and bitter and I'm in despair for the future of this country I've chosen to live and work in.

But I won't write that post. Instead I'll give you my other favourite complaint of the moment: my hair!

I can't cut it until just before the wedding. It's driving me crazy, I have no style, the grey is showing (I'm a mousy blonde, brown; how can I go grey?!) and it is daily scraped back into a ponytail with a sigh.

One day I will have this type of good hair day again... we'd just moved into the flat it was sunny enough to wear sunglasses and our Swedish friends were visiting. Roll on May 20th!

Happy Sigh!

2006-03-31T17:53:00.000+02:00

Today I finished my job in Paris. What began as a two month contract in September 2004 ended up becoming an 18 month position. I had a lovely lunch with the people I like and then I hoofed it out of there!

I already have a freelance project beginning on Monday. It will be a fairly intensive 12 day delivery but I (for once) negotiated a fee that I'm happy with and can do the majority of the work from home. I just need to find out who to talk to set up a TVA number. Any help appreciated!

After that ... well, the wedding will be on the horizon and then... who knows what!

I feel like I'm on the edge of something very exciting, a new start, the next phase in my life. I think I'm going to take a nap and then enjoy a coupe or two when my man comes home.

Unrest

2006-03-28T17:09:00.000+02:00

When people have asked me about the CPE demonstrations in Reims, I've joked that this is a very bourgeoisie city and there are no burning cars here.

Well, I still don't think there are any burning cars yet but Mother Frog was stuck in a rather scary situation this morning.

I'd been sat waiting for her to drop by the flat, in order to hand over something that Frog had forgotten when he left this morning. She was popping into the city to run a couple of errands and I sat tapping my heels as I waited. And waited.

Finally, this afternoon I got a call from Frog to tell me that his Mum had returned about half an hour earlier in tears. She'd driven around a corner just as today's manifestation was starting up. The crowds surrounded her in the car and began to shake it. Frog family suspect she was a target of the group as she was driving their rather large shiny Mercedes.

I don't know anybody who has sympathies for the CPE demonstrators anymore. There's a large national strike today and I find a certain irony to the fact that I can't get to a Government office in order to learn about I need to begin work as an independent freelancer in this country.

Addict

2006-03-21T16:19:00.000+01:00

One of my favourite bloggers is this guy. His link to Google Idol today has gotten me addicted to new global lipsynching talents.

Genius. Sheer Genius.

Spring View

2006-03-19T23:12:00.000+01:00

Spring View
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

Just one week until spring officially arrives but this weekend already felt like a huge heavy weight was being lifted from our shoulders.

Blue skies, cafés, people watching, long lunch, walking, snowdrops, photos, vines, museum, viticulteur plans and lamb dinner.

The set of photos from this afternoon's drive out to Verzenay can be found here...

Sign of the Times

2006-03-18T11:05:00.000+01:00

I confess that I haven't been endlessly practicing my new married signature. I did however check that I could "upgrade" from my firstnamemaidenname@hotmail.com account if the firstnamemarriedname@hotmail.com was available.

I should probably make sure I'm not like a friend of mine who had a mild panic when she went to sign her new married name at the bank. She couldn't remember how to spell it.

I also have to work on the pronounciation and not hacking up a large amount of phlegm when I roll the 'r' in the the "gr" of the name. That could be embarassing.

Protest

2006-03-17T08:54:00.000+01:00

Protest
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

I was at home yesterday in the back of the flat, attempting (and failing) to focus on a piece of work I've been avoiding for days when I heard noises from a crowd coming from the front of the flat.

I had actually been thinking over the weekend that now the weather is more tolerable it must mean the beginning of manifestation season. We're situated slap bang opposite the Palais Justice which means that every time there's a demonstration it passes by chez nous.

Then yesterday, as you may have read in the news, more and more students have been taking to the streets to protest against a new employment law, the CPE:

This is a good source to understand what is happening.
This is The Guardian's Leader piece today.
She writes about her experiences as a student in Le Havre.

So, as I watched the students file past the flat I grabbed my camera to capture today's events to show Frog when he came home.

The photo is technically pretty poor but I did capture the mysterious smoke that appeared as they all clustered in the centre of one of the main thoroughfares. It looks more dramatic than I think it was. The police were already around and everyone dispersed very quickly.

I got an email this morning from NowPublic, a public news service that uses stories and footage from non news sources. My bad photo has been published by them (on my permission) to accompany a story about the CPE and riots in Paris.

Things clearly were a little more volatile in the French capital.

Pill Popping

2006-03-16T13:35:00.000+01:00

My new morning ritual is to stand in the kitchen and slowly count out an array of tablets whilst I wait for my coffee to brew.

Frog stood watching me and exclaimed, "Ahhh, now you're becoming a real French woman".

The French take more medicines than anyone else on earth. To be fair the larger part of the tablets are vitamins and supplements. These are a combination of wedding vanity (please will my nails stop breaking!) and trying to promote joint health without resorting to aggressive anti-inflammatories every day.

I now know my way blindfolded around the local medical centre and they say hello to me in the pharmacy. My physiotherapist is now 'tutoying' me* (as is my hairdresser but that's more an intimacy that he obviously feels has been created by his far more regular and original client, my gossiping mother-in-law to be).

As much as my back's health is a source of frustration it has proved to be my first real recce into the local community.

* Read her explanation about this French formality rule...

Chuffed

2006-03-13T11:23:00.000+01:00

I'm feeling rather pleased with myself. I have not only survived the journée de préparation au mariage with the priest but I rather enjoyed it!

Frog and I trooped off to the new parish centre at 10 am yesterday. Frog and been sent to buy a baguette and we had a carrier bag with food that I'd been cooking till midnight the night before. The invitation had said that we needed to bring something savoury and something sweet to share as a picnic with the other young couples who would be gathering to spend the day together.

My first fear had been that during this day with the Catholic priest, older married couples from the church and other engaged couples, I would stick out as the non-Catholic (and foreigner). My second fear was that we would have to bear our souls about our faith and our relationships. My final fear was that I was going to have to do all of this in French.

So. Working backwards ... I am extremely proud of overcoming my final fear. I spoke in French all day, I participated fully (and as Frog said, 'If you spoke that much in French, I can only be glad that it wasn't in English. You'd have never shut up'). It helped that we were a smallish group of seven young couples and two older married couples. The only time I really found difficult was right at the end, when we were asked to sum up our thoughts on the day. This meant I had to, on the spot, pull together some fairly complicated thoughts into French. I don't think I've gone so red in the face since my A-Level French oral exams.

Second fear - that we would have to bear our souls. Well, yes ... compared to stories of fairly muted preparation days in the UK (both Anglican and Catholic) we did have to talk about how we met, explore our fears and worries about the endurance of marriage. But that was okay, and even Frog 'fessed up. The matter of our personal faith was left very relaxed - the line given was 'we are all on our own separate paths, some in different places than others'. The role and importance of the Christian church in our marriage was discussed - and that is something Frog and I already knew we were both in agreement about.

Phew.

So, finally, I wasn't the only non-Catholic. There was another Protestant, originally from Strasbourg who confessed that he was also terrified about a day with Catholic doctrine. And I wasn't the only foreigner. There was a Lebanese guy and a woman who was half American, half French and had only moved to France, from her life in Connecticut, when she was 20 years old.

We finished up by going to the evening Mass and then almost all of us went for a drink afterwards. There I discovered there are others who are new to Reims and don't know many people (of the whole group only Frog and one other guy were originally Rémois, the other, an arrogant lawyer type, of whom I may write a story another day when I'm feeling a little evil again).

So, we're all meeting up again next Sunday evening at Mass.

Who would have thought it, eh?

And finally - my chicken dish was the hit of the picnic. Thanks to Nigel, I overturned at least one stereotype about the English!

Whippet

2006-03-10T14:35:00.000+01:00

"The Greyhound"
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

I'm so very excited this afternoon. I got the call on Monday. The call to say my dress has arrived and when did I want to schedule my first fitting?

As soon as possible! I almost screamed back at the poor lady.

A, usually curvy, friend told me that she lost so much weight that by the morning of the wedding, as she slipped her lingerie on, she felt svelte like a 'whippet'.

Well, it's fair to say that won't be me!

So, off I'll toddle this afternoon to the boutique where I expect the lovely mesdames will, in equal measure, tut and coo at me.

The thing is, I think I've put weight on since I ordered the dress. I never wanted to lose much weight for the wedding. I am what I am and fairly happy with what I've got (and that state took some years to achieve!). If I lose weight now, it'll come off my face and then my features gets big and pointy. Which is no good.

So I thought I'd planned to exercise and tone instead. But my back had other plans... and then it got cold in North-Eastern France... and insulation was needed. You see where this is going?

So, I guess I've got to start being sensible for the next couple of months. I'll begin to cut out the sugary stuff and the butter that I love.

I didn't think I'd turn into this kind of bride - but I am sooo excited. The veil, shoes and necklace are ready in a bag by the door and I'm clockwatching till the big hand reaches the 11 and the little hand reaches the five... and then I'll tear around the corner, down the straight to the shop.

Oscar

2006-03-06T13:34:00.000+01:00

This time five years ago, I remember lying out across the bed, digging into an especially bought tub of Ben & Jerry's and watching the Oscars from start to finish. I had just arrived in New York and was installed in a small, temporary corporate apartment up on 82nd and Amsterdam. This was America and it didn't matter (yet) that I had no friends, I was watching the Oscars in civillised hours from my bedroom.

Frog and I love films. At the moment all conversations that touch on work or families are best avoided, and you simply cannot talk 100% of the time about the wedding - without risking going completely bananas - so more likely than not we end up either watching or talking about films.

I often forget that Frog is... a Frog... but during moments like last night's dinner the pure and utter Frenchness of the man jumps up and smacks me in the face. We'd been to see Syriana on Friday and Frog began to warm to his topic: "George Clooney is a hypocrite for becoming rich and famous in America and then turning to attack the leaders of his country". A quite rubbish premise but he was intent on following this line in argument with me.

As I sat, laughing and countering him to pull apart all attempts he made to prove his point, I suddenly saw the French in the Frenchman. Like a guest on the myriad of TV shows that broadcast every evening in this country, he was debating for pleasure, as if sat around the table with other celebrities discussing tonight's theme. He had found his flow and was thoroughly enjoying the sound of his voice and the exercise of working through an argument.

Naturally his point was rubbish and (I think) I won with 'political art is an important part of any culture; a country is served best when freedom is given to artists at the highest level to criticise a country's leadership'. But I don't think he really cared about the point - more the pleasure of debating.

Besides, I think we have just earnt our own little Oscar. We registered our dossier at the Mairie this morning and the publication of the banns will be made next week. 132 euros of production costs, services provided by the British Consulate, Official Translators, UK Birth Registry and photocopiers across the regions. The leading actor and actress will be accompanied by their supporting artists on 10am on Friday 19th May to accept the award. The award party will be held the following day.

So, I'll be working on my acceptance speech then...

Temper, Temper

2006-03-05T10:39:00.000+01:00

I found myself last night reverting to behaviour that, upon reflection this morning, takes me right back to my childhood.

We'd had a good Saturday. The honeymoon, now into extended saga status, has been requoted. We're going to give the disease carrying mozzies in the Indian Occean a miss and head out to Quebec to spend two weeks driving around the rivers, fjords and lakes. We've swapped beaches and tropical volcanos for cool, bleak landscapes and whale watching.

Second stop of the day was to the jeweller to choose our wedding bands. Frog has never worn jewellery, so seeing a ring on his finger was a totally new experience for him. He took a liking to one plain design and we agreed on the inscriptions to be engraved inside. Mine in French, his in English - a simple date so that there is no excuse of forgetting our future anniversaries.

And then it all went a little pear shaped. The argument was nothing wedding related. More an issue of a suddenly remembered piece of correspondance from the lovely French tax office that had been sat in the bottom of a bag for months and now had hefty fines attached to it.

Given our French/Anglo combination, and the imagined stereotypes, it's actually me who displays the hot headedness. I have written about these convictions before. (Although I have been assured that this streak of hot temper runs through both sides of my family.)

So, I lost my temper last night. Objects that were never designed to be projectile were suddenly launched across the table. I don't think it was just the forgotten missive but a combination of different stresses that have been rising over the last week from various sources.

And as the pieces landed and I had said what I wanted to 'say', I took myself off to the bedroom, slammed the door behind me and opened my book.

We still, politely, made it to the cinema last night. It's only this morning, as the full final apologies were made on both sides, that I realised - this is exactly what I used to do. There was always a moment when I realised that lines had been crossed, before Mum could respond and I would place my hands to cover my backside and announce, "I'm going to my room".

Do we ever grow up?

Forecasts

2006-03-03T11:35:00.000+01:00

It feels rather odd planning a warm (I'm being the optimist) May wedding when you look outside your window and this is what stares back:

The florist's estimate, crammed full of roses and peonies, has been agreed; my sister's pretty tea dress has been chosen; I've ordered white and floral bunting to decorate the courtyard and the music for the service of blessing just needs to be approved by the priest. A lovely friend is sending selected tunes, for our approval, that will play in the background whilst our guests sip champagne before dinner and dancing; overseas friends and family are all booking up travel and flights and I'm a regular visitor at the Post Office, sending off another photocopied map or railway timetable.

So, as I look outside the window today, I'm trying to imagine myself back to the time when this was more like the view:

Roll on spring!

Over and Out

2006-02-14T12:17:00.000+01:00

Okay. I give up.

I'm going to take a break again from this.

The wedding planning is going fine but I'm struggling with other stuff at the moment and need to focus on working out what I'm currently calling my "coping strategy".

The good news is that the ongoing back pain has been diagnosed. The bad news is that it's arthritis in my damaged lower discs. More scans and visits to the rhumatologists will continue in the coming weeks. There's nothing nice about being told you have the spine of someone several decades older than your actual age. When I read the leaflets and advice on diet, exercise and managing I see images of grey haired pensioners and have to remind myself I'm really a youthful 32 years old.

I still (just about) have a job but am going through the joys of job searching and applications as the monthly contract renewals are about to finally run out. Anyone need an experienced international marketeer, specialising in shampoos, soaps, washing powder, teas and sauces? Based in North East France, will travel for S'Miles and Frequent Flyer Points.

The weather in Reims continues to be grey, damp and dark. You see where my mood is going with this?!

I'll be back. Just give me time, a large packet of anti-inflammatories and a little motivation.

Typeology

2006-02-04T18:51:00.000+01:00

This morning I was rudely awaken by the alarm at 8am. The reason for the alarm on a Saturday was that we had an important appointment at the family doctors.

Part of the marriage dossier, that has to be handed into the Mairie, includes a Prenuptial Medical Certificate. In the long list of things demanded from the State, this is probably the closest I have ever come to the State being involved in my personal affairs. But this is France and France is the State.*

Once I'd got over the 'not another bloody document' gut reaction, I realised that this is probably a good system. Identify a moment in your citizens' lives to ensure that they have a health MOT. The doctor gives a general physical check (blood pressure, respiration, heart, general ailments), a look to see if you're up to date on your immunisations, a check on your blood type and the voluntary opportunity to take an HIV test.

The only reason I think this is a good thing is because the State doesn't get to see the results and neither does your partner, unless you choose to tell him/her. It's a personal check up. The doctor signs a form to say you've been through the procedure and that is what is handed to the Mairie (along with a gazillion other pieces of legal documentation).

I ended up with a couple of test tubes worth of blood extracted from my arm . Much to Frog's annoyance, I have no idea what my blood type is(he is 'special' as a type that is shared with only 1% of the French nation). His annoyance was because we couldn't get the forms signed today as we have to return for my blood type result. The doctor will then advise us if there are any issues on our type compatibility for future children and sign the certificate.

There's a great line in the series Lost when during an 'emergency in the middle of the jungle blood transfusion', they are looking for people with matching blood types. Whilst all around, American characters are offering up their blood types, including the half-dead guy on the floor, the British character Charlie panics "I have no idea, I'm English. We don't know our blood types".

According to my Mum - the source of all sensible knowledge - the theory in the UK is that if we were to find out our blood types when we're young, some might quickly discern that they are not necessarily related to their parents, due to impossible inherited blood type combinations.

So, in 7 - 10 days I will find out. It's quite exciting really. I could make jokes about discovering the hidden truth, that I'm not related to part of my family. But I won't as my sister might get upset. I'm just thinking them very loudly!

*I highly recommend a book called 60 Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong (Why We Love France But Hate the French), written by two Canadian sociologists. It brilliantly and vividly explains the French psyche.

Longhaul

2006-02-02T17:07:00.000+01:00

Sometimes when the weather is this crap (the last day has given us sub-zero, grey, freezing fog, sleet and snow) I like to think about white sandy beaches, turquoise seas, sarongs, and a stack of books to read whilst relaxing on a soft towel.

Well, it so happens that as I was watching the snow start to fall outside the windows of the travel agency, we were in the process of booking our honeymoon.

The honeymoon planning has been a long saga. It was my responsibility but everytime I discussed options with Frog it swung towards another idea, from Croatia to Ibiza, Crete to Morocco. (If anyone wants them I have prepared excel sheets full of itineries and hotel quotes ready to go!)

Yet, despite the charming little places I found, we still couldn't decide on where to go with my Air France Air Miles. Free flights, access to beach and warm Mediterannean sun. Sounds easy? I know.

In the end, I started to pick up the (oh so subtle) signs that Frog was interested in going further afield. And shock! Might pay the extra. Anyone who knows a management accountant might appreciate the rarity of this act.

The outcome of this (and yes, I jumped into action fast!) is that as of 10:30am this morning, we have a 10 days trip to La Réunion booked, deposit paid and now just a bikini to buy!

For someone who lied through her teeth that "a couple of rainy days in Normandy would be fine, just so long as we get away after the wedding", this is paradise indeed.

If I sound smug, it's because I am smug!

There is, however, a postscript to this smugness. When the travel agent offered us the insurance, including cancellation coverage, Frog suddenly got very interested. What would that cover for reasons for cancellation? Would it have to be something very official to get the insurance to reimburse the costs?

I immediately started to panic. Is he getting cold feet about the wedding? Is this the moment where he's suddenly realised the impact of marriage and he's looking to see what his back out plan might be?

It's only once we were outside that he turned to me, white-faced, and confessed...

... he hadn't asked for the time off work from his parents and was worried his Mum was going to freak out about him disappearing for 10 days.

Honestly. Family, bloody businesses.

The post postscript, is that this afternoon he called to say his Mum is fine with the time and us taking a honeymoon straight away.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

...& 1, 2

2006-01-29T12:48:00.000+01:00

I wouldn't say it was a bone of contention (certainly not on the scale of the guest list) but much discussion has been given to the first dance.

I was all for a gentle Van Morrison shuffle and spent some time trying to convince Frog that this would be a good, relaxing dance. After all, 'Van the Man' is one of his favourite singers and certainly more wedding friendly than his true 'Music God', Bruce and "Born to Run".

Frog however had other ideas. He wanted a proper dance, like a waltz. I have memories of cringing at Frog Brother at his wedding looking incredibly awkward as he and wife waltzed in an ugly village hall in the south of the region. Call me a snob (that I know that I am) but it looked like small town pretentiousness.

In fact Frog has been pushing for dance classes since we first met to which I'd so far resisted .* And I have written about the French Rock 'n Roll phenomenon before. So, finally, I caved in. Frog was told in the New Year that if he finds a dance class that is flexible enough to my erratic travelling schedule, then he's on. On the condition we don't waltz.

That is why, for the last few weeks we have been rushing through sub-zero weather to a dance school across town. Me, tripping across the cobbles in my little heels that I'm determined to practice in, since that's what I'll be wearing on the big day.

The classes are an hour and there is always a 30 min Rock 'n Roll session preceeded by a different dance every week, that are revisited once a month. So the first week we learnt the basics to the Pase Doble, then onto the Waltz and last week the Cha Cha Cha.

It's fantastic! I am a convert. The dance school is run by two couples who - from the photos decorating the rooms - have spent their lives on cruise boats, dancing on variety shows and meeting the 'greatest' of France's entertainers. Since the weather is so beastly at the moment we're often the only ones or one of a few in the beginners group who have ventured out. So we've made a lot of progress. Progress that has little to do with our talent but more to do with the personal time and attention we've received from the teachers.

It's probably stupid to put an extra pressure on ourselves for the day and I fully expect to look like amateurville. Our main difficulty now is to decide which dance for the wedding. And for my part, which dance I expect to manage in a full wedding dress!

*Mainly as a reaction to the fact that I know Frog met his loopy ex at Rock'n Roll classes in Paris.

Adrift

2006-01-26T15:48:00.000+01:00

Vines in Prouilly, Champagne
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

These were the vines last year when it snowed. A few flakes are beginning to fall now and I wonder if we'll see the same stunning scapes.

Frog informed me last night that a burnt out car had been found in the vines by the village. Apparently it has been driven into the Frog Family vines and an attempt was made to set it alight. That first attempt failed so the firestarters moved it to a neighbouring plot (belonging to someone else in the village) where the car took light.

It made the local paper, and Frog Father is finding out if the insurance will cough up for the roots that need replacing.

Hithertoo the village has been unscathed by crime. I hope this isn't the beginning of a new period

I'm not sure exactly what period Frog is living in, but his choice of language was poetic and made me chuckle.

A Pause

2006-01-13T21:34:00.000+01:00

I'm fighting a cold.... Frog has come down with a gastro virus... I'm working and travelling.... Up to my neck in job searching and applications... Planning a Wedding for May...

Time to take a pause from the blog. Not for long, probably several days, a week. Just enough time to take the vitamin supplements, sleep and keep on top of things for a while!

My New Toy

2006-01-07T18:54:00.000+01:00

Ahh yes I am becoming quite the domesticated lady!

This is the result of a couple of money gifts from Christmas (thanks Mum!) and a little of my own cash thrown in.

I spent an hour looking at different machines last weekend. I ummed and I ahhed and there was only so much time that Frog was happy to stay in the Television Department watching Robbie Williams demonstrated in wide, flat screen. So finally I was dragged away, still pondering.

And then I discovered La Redoute with a 25% off sale on their Magimixes. I had dismissed them earlier in the selection process, I love their design and simplicity but they're top of the range pricewise. Meaning I would be able to buy either a mini Magimix or an all singing all dancing Phillips. And my heart wasn't in Phillips. I'm finding the Dutch quite irritating at the moment (no, I'm not dismissing a whole nation, just a few individuals).

But thanks to online shopping and comparative search engines my dream came true!

It sits perfectly compact in the corner of the kitchen, smiling at me. Chopped veggies, homemade pastry and fruit and veggie juices all round!

Food Glorious...

2006-01-04T12:35:00.000+01:00

With Frog Father's cousin supplying the catering for us we have some freedom in the wedding menu.

However, the one thing I have learnt about French Weddings* is that there is no playing with the traditional menu! (The exception to this was a fantastic garden wedding I went to in the South of France where lovely couscous was served followed by a huge clafoutis made by the couple in the village baker's ovens.)

We have agreed a per head fee for food and wines (although obviously not the champagne) and now we just need to agree on the menu.

The meal is served between 8pm & midnight, with intervals between courses for people to dance and enjoy the music.

This is the current draft in English & French with my notes.
=====
Cold Starter
Salade d’asperges aux languoustines
Asparagus & Langoustine Salad

Hot Starter
Gratinées de Saint-Jacques
Cheese Baked Scallops served in the shell
We ummed and ahhed about having two seafood starters, in case people didn't like the stuff. But in the end our preference, a couple of friends who don't like meats (and my Mum's strong lobbying for langoustine) won out!

Sorbet
Trou Champenois
Made with Marc de Champagne liqueur

Main
Magrets de Canards au poivre vert
Duck with a green pepper sauce
Is this sauce too heavy. Would a honey sauce be better?
I guess finding out how many guests are vegetarians (guaranteed not to be the French!) should be next on my 'to do' list.

Garniture de Legumes (Pommes de Terre Dauphinoise; Haricots Verts)
Vegetable Side Dishes (Dauphinoise Potatoes; Green Beans)

Salade/ Fromages

Dessert
Salade de Fruits
Fruit Salad
Traditionally this is a buffet of different pastries and desserts but I always find that too much and we think fruit would be better.

Café

Cakes
Piéces Montées/Cake
The traditional French pyramid of choux buns with caramel topping and a small traditional English wedding cake - supplied by good old M&S
I don't really like English fruit cake but it's more a point of principle of trying to assert my Englishness in an otherwise very French day...
====

What do you think?

* Actually there are three things. However, the second is related to guest lists which I still can't talk about without my blood pressure exploding. The third relates to French bureaucracy, and that update is being saved for another post.

Looking Ahead

2006-01-01T13:03:00.000+01:00

My subconscious welcomed 2006 in last night by providing me with my first wedding anxiety dream!

Frog and I had enjoyed a lovely evening of champagne, and a meal created out of leftovers from the feast we created the night before for Family Frog (chestnut soup, smoked salmon, potato pancakes & salad). The living room was filled with candles and we watched the first part of a Christmas gift, Lost: Season One, tales of survivors on a mysterious island filled with monsters and secrets. Finally, rather bleary eyed at 2:30am we called it a night and pootled to bed.

My dream filled night involved me dressing for the wedding, my sister, mum and I in a large English house complete with a very muddy garden and all three of us in a complete and total panic. The dress was ready, the guests were arriving. Frog was at his parents and supposedly also getting ready. Suddenly I realised, as the dress went over my head, that the florist hadn't been given the final details so there were no bouquets prepared. The priest was booked but we hadn't prepared the order of service, an organist or hymns. My hair was scraped back into an unwashed twist and my sister was freaking that she had no bridesmaid dress to wear.

I believe it was at that moment I woke up.

Welcome 2006 and the next five months of lists, planning and preparation. We will be ready for May 20th. But I don't think that was the last of the dreams!

Wishing everybody a happy, healthy and successful 2006, wherever you are and whatever your plans might be.

The Highlights

2005-12-29T17:40:00.000+01:00

So, it was Frog's first English Christmas. And low and behold he didth enjoyeth it. Which was no surprise to me, even if it seemed to be to him!

The Christmas album can be viewed here.

We have always had the same Christmas rituals in our house:

8am Get up and open stockings from Father Christmas (who also generously extended his visit to include the Frog. I think a little 'bird' helped him out with that).

9am Traditional English Fried Breakfast (don't be thinking that means a lighter lunch).

10am Start screaming that we'll be late for church if we don't leave in the next 15 minutes.

10:35am Arrive late for church and tiptoe to the back pews. Mutter at the rector's sermon and his inane pompous stupidity. This year's was a new form
of literary criticism based upon the premise "Literature written by christian authors, good. Literature written by non-christian authors, baaad."
Take annual communion. As soon as the service ends see how quickly you can drag mum out the church whilst she tries to catch up with people who look at us 'kids' and for the 20th year in the row, tell you how much you've grown.
12pm Home, open first gift from under the tree whilst battling with sprouts and a blunt knife.

1:30pm Sit down for a fabulous lunch. Roast potatoes, sprouts, chestnuts, parsnips, bread sauce, cranberry sauce, huuuge turkey, carved by Mum and lovely glasses of chablis.

3pm Retire to the sitting room and agree that pudding will be later. Begin to open gifts under the tree. One at a time, person by person.

5pm Hit the Christmas pudding

6pm Finish unwrapping gifts and slowly fall asleep in front of the telly.

I had a wonderful time as usual. Until I overate and my stomach decided it couldn't handle any more rich food.

But what was the verdict from the Frog on his first English Christmas?

Frog's Highlights:

More (great) gifts than he ever expected to receive
Christmas lunch (the food & crackers)
The walk on Tuesday around Corfe Castle
Resting after the crazy weeks leading up to Christmas

Frog's Lowlights

Doctor Who

I know. I'm gutted. I thought the new version was cool (this was my first opportunity to see it). The Frog just did not get it. Ahh well. Can't have everything!

So - Frog Family Christmas Dinner #2 tomorrow night. I'll be cooking for all the family who will descend on our flat to exchange gifts with us. Wish me luck!

Stuffed

2005-12-27T18:28:00.000+01:00

We have eaten our way through Dorset's food and wine stocks. We'll be winding our way back to France tonight on a night ferry across the channel.

A bientot!

Have yourself a ...

2005-12-22T15:41:00.000+01:00

Wow. This week has flown by. I have mostly been pottering backwards and forwards from the flat to the shops. I can't carry more than one bag at a time, so Christmas shopping has been a slow and rather more dull experience than usual!

Frog has been a bit of a rare species in the flat these last two weeks. This is the heaviest period for champagne sales, so as part of a small family company that are well experienced in multitasking, he is currently van driver extraordinaire across France. 3am, 4am starts have been usual, with him reappearing at 12:45am last Friday night. In fact, after one return at 3am this week he ended up simply sleeping at his parents' house, next to the production and cellars.

Every so often I text him to 'take care', 'please drive carefully'. To which he replies it's okay he's just drunk another half bottle of coke. If a blood sample were taken there would be pure sugar and caffeine running through his veins, I'm sure.

But! We're off tomorrow lunchtime. A four hour drive to Le Havre to take the evening ferry to Portsmouth and then an hour down the road to Mum's. Before he retired to bed last night (this morning was a lie in at 5am) Frog thrust two CDs into my hand which he asked me to copy over to the ipod: "We've been too busy to get in the Christmas mood, so that's what we'll do on the drive to Le Havre".

The Christmas Album and Christmas Hits: 50 Festive Favourites are now dutifully copied. With just a tiny bit of editing. I'm sorry but no, Whigfield's rendition of Last Christmas did not make the cut. Neither did Robson & Jerome, I Believe.

But The Wombles, Wombling Merry Christmas did!

Happy Christmas! We'll be back for New Year's Eve.

Cliché

2005-12-19T14:59:00.000+01:00

We are rapidly heading towards becoming the clichéd couple embroiled in wedding guest list disputes.

So, I address this to my friends who may not receive an invitation. You'll understand, it's imperative that the Frog family plumber and his wife is invited, won't you?

Wedding Update

2005-12-15T12:56:00.000+01:00

So... all the fun of the wedding planning is really completed. Boxes have been ticked for:

Priest & Church
Village Hall
Caterer
Decoration
Florist
Invitations
Dress
Entertainment

It makes it a little easier when you're in a relatively small city with lots of family contacts. We live above the florists, the caterer is Frog Father's cousin, the dress shop is where sister-in-law recommended, the invitations are homemade, the priest is involved in Frog's old school and the village hall costs €300 for the weekend rental.

So, now we're onto the bureacracy... think that the European Union makes things easier for a Brit to marry a Frenchman? Think again...

Medical Certificate: dated within 2 months of the wedding file registration at the town hall
Copy of Birth Certificate: dated within 6 months of the marriage date
Translation of the Birth Certificate
Certificat de Coutume: in person request at the British Embassy in Paris with a cheque for €65*
Declaration (on honour) that we live in Reims
Proof of residence (a photocopy of a bill)
List of witnesses and a copy of their identification papers (they must be able to speak French)

We then have to both take this to the Town Hall to register our wedding dossier in person, with identification.

The Mayor's office also said that I needed a carte de séjour européene. In fact, they scrawled the request in biro across the bottom of the official Livret d'Information sur le Mariage. Well that was news to me as I've been resident in France for nearly three years without one. An hour in the Foreigner's Office at the city Sous Prefécture and it was also news to the people who are responsible for giving out the carte de séjours. In a classic French moment, the woman behind the desk, shrugged her shoulders, consulted with a colleague and 'boffed' :

"I don't know why they would say that. Did the Mayor's Office really say that? It hasn't been needed for three years. You don't need one. Why are they saying that? If you have problems when you register your dossier, tell them to call us".

Call me a cynic but I see trouble ahead on that one. French bureacracy is never that easy.

This afternoon's task is to find a translator and next Tuesday will see me queuing at the British Embassy. Happily, I see it's close to the WH Smiths on Rue Rivoli.

Next week's wedding blog update will be the menu. All five courses. Now, that's why we're marrying in France!

* I think this is a document that says that as a British Citizen I am allowed to marry a French citizen and the role of British law on my status. Or something...

Le Dos Strikes Back

2005-12-14T09:22:00.000+01:00

Well it was all going well until Monday 12th. A great weekend with friends in London, another baby to meet, mulled wine, Covent Garden market, Sunday roast and odd antics between Santa & a couple of nubile bellydancers.

We got back late Sunday/Monday morning and I was all ready to go to Hamburg via Paris and an early morning osteopath check up. Then my back struck back. I managed to hobble to the osteopath, still planning to take a later train to the airport.

After a very painful session, the osteopath looked at me and said "You're not going any where for at least the next three days" and then more warnings and cautions about what I was doing to my body.

And it turns out he was right. By the time I'd made it home, I couldn't move, stay still or do much to bear the pain.

Two days later, sleepless nights, painkillers, warm compresses and a very patient Frog and Mother Frog (who has cooked for us) and I am just about back on my feet. A couple of short potters around the flat, a quick check of emails and I feel like I'm reconnecting with the world.

I'll also hopefully catch up on a couple of hours work today before all my projects go down the drain.

I'll save the story of Santa and the bellydancers till next time...

Hopper

2005-12-08T18:59:00.000+01:00

I am like a streakng blur across Europe. A peek at my diary this month:

November 30th Copenhagen
December 1st Reims
December 2nd Reims
December 3rd Reims
December 4th Reims Enjoyed these 4 days. A lot.
December 5th London
December 6th London
December 7th London
December 8th Reims
December 9th London
December 10th London
December 11th London
December 12th Paris / Hamburg
December 13th Hamburg
December 14th Reims/London
December 15th London/Reims
December 16th Paris
December 17th Reims Looking forward to these 3 days
December 18th Reims
December 19th Reims
December 20th Paris
December 21st Reims
December 22nd Paris
December 23rd Reims/Portsmouth
December 24th - 27th Mum's in Dorset

I think. I just think that New Years will be in Reims. Others might dream of jetting off for a weekend away. I cannot wait to spend more than three nights at home.

I'm not complaining, I haven't lost my sanity yet, the frequent flyer miles will pay for the honeymoon flights and my lovely Frog is quite patient with me.

And the other good news is that my contract just got officially extended for another month in January. More trips ahoy and pennies towards the wedding funds. February? That's another month, another worry. Not tonight's. Me, I've got bags to pack...

Flurries

2005-12-07T13:58:00.000+01:00

I am sat at London Waterloo waiting for the train to take me back to France. Three days of meetings in the UK, I've been staying with my sister and her boyfriend, seeing friends and otherwise running around like a busy chicken.

People might have been forgiven for thinking it was snowing here. Yesterday, as I got up from a coffee with a colleague, I reached for my coat and scarf. The coat is black and the scarf a lovely new big cream woollen wrap. The wrap has been slowly shedding fluff, moulting all over my coat and black jumper and trousers. To the extent that as I stretched to put the coat on, a flurry of fibres floated through the cafe, my colleague trying not to laugh.

The third and final day away, on my way home, my coat is not so much black as grey and my eyes pink with the irritation. I shall be heading to the dry cleaners tomorrow morning. We'll see if Frog recognises the cloud that will enter the flat, on my return tonight.

Epicurious

2005-12-04T10:46:00.000+01:00

Saturday lunchtime was my birthday treat from Frog. And what a treat!

We walked our way in the drizzle towards the restaurant in the grounds of Pommery, Les Crayères. Frog was grumbling that I'd strongly suggested we walk. However, I had my eye on the end game which involved drinking glasses of fine wine and supporting a heavy stomach home.

After a thirty minute walk, we arrived at the entrance, where our coats were whisked away and we were escorted to a cosy salon and seated at a low table by the windows that overlook the Pommery park. My choice of champagne for an aperitif (Moet Chandon Rosé 1996) was stunning. A clean bubbly taste that left a fruity trail. We were brought some nibbles as we perused the menu. A deep fried ball of escargot which when you bit into it gave a hot liquid garlic buttery reward; a small pastry of brie and spinach and a 'cigarillo' of smoked soft cheese wrapped in a single crunchy pastry.

The waiter came to take our orders and the sommelier gave us advice on our accompanying wine. Once our orders were taken we were able to to relax and left to throughly enjoy the surroundings.

When the kitchen was ready to serve us, we were walked to the dining room. A rather grand room with five metre ceilings, but we were still relaxed (although that might have been the effect of the aperitif!). A basket with a trio of breads, fleur du sel pastry, levain and d'olive
was brought to us by our lovely waiter, who insisted through the meal that we make sure to try each one. These were accompanied by a choice on the table by pats of demi sel or non salted butter.

Before the starter we enjoyed an amuse bouche of a chunk of pan fried salmon in a light frothy emulsion of cèpes mushrooms. If I'd been at home I would have licked the small dish clean.

Entrée
For the starter, we shared a demi-bouteille of Laurent Perrier Brut 1998 with:

Oiseau: LANGOUSTINE ROYALE en chaud et froid, nage coraillée, noix, pistache, amande

Langoustine cooked three ways - cold and wrapped with thin vermicellli type pasta, very thinly sliced with spices and hot fried with walnut, pistachio and almonds

Frog: ANGUILLE échalotes/cèpes/pomme-verte, relevée d'une matelote

Eel served two ways, warm with a dark sauce and cold, layered with apple, shallots and mushrooms

Plat
Again, we shared a demi bouteille of a lovely smooth, Saint Emilion. I say 'shared' but Frog only took a few sips and I believe I finished the rest off.

Frog: TURBOT DE BRETAGNE à blanc, réhaussé de poivres,pomme à pomme aux échalotes

Piece of turbot with pepper, potatoes and shallots.

Oiseau: DOS DE CHEVREUIL frotté de genièvre, salsifis, potiron,endive, sauce poivrade

Venison with juniper, salsifis, pumpkin and endives.

My venison was so tender and delicious. The vegetables weren't so memorable but the meat more than made up for that.

Dessert

Oiseau: CARAMEL au croustillant de pralin, rafraichi carambar

A roll of caramel ice cream with a centre of soft caramel, with chocolate and praline pieces. A small glass dish on ice, inside créme fraiche with caramel topping.

Frog: ANANAS, fruit de la passion, biscuit amande, coupe Pina Colada

Frog really lucked out with his choice. The dessert came in three stages. There was a plate with a small tower of pineapple, passion fruit and cream on an almond biscuit. This was joined with a pina colada glass with pieces of soft rum marinaded pineapple coated in a coconut foam. As you popped one in the mouth, it melted on your tongue. A third small bowl held mini doughnuts to dip into a sweet coconut cream sauce.

On the centre of a table, to share, was a plate of three different mini patissieries. A religieuse, a sponge 'fairy cake' and a chocolate biscuit with chocolate cream topping. Two each. Blimey.

Café & Petits Fours
By this point we were ready to roll back to the salon for a small strong coffee and more chocolate in the shape of six petits fours to share.

Total time elapsed: 3 hours

The service was wonderful. Nothing ostentatious, very relaxed, helpfully guiding us in our choices. I especially liked our waiter. He must have been in his fifties and clearly a man who has made service his métier.

A wonderful dining experience. I have to say the food was great - but the outstanding parts were the fried langoustine, my venison, Frog's dessert and the rosé champagne. Overall though, it was the experience, service and 'moment' that really made it a birthday treat. It felt like a clandestine, exclusive afternoon.

Oh, and the company was pretty good!

Like a Child

2005-12-01T14:17:00.000+01:00

I have always loved birthdays. Well, who doesn't? Gifts, attention, best wishes and cake. Bring them on!

Everyone has always known when my birthday is because it gets dropped into conversation, several weeks in advance. I like the event and I want everyone else to share in it. But then this year - I don't know if it's the wedding planning, busy work trips or just the plain old fact that I'm a couple of years into my thirties - it caught me by surprise this week.

I thought to myself, I must be more mature. This is what being in your thirties means, another year, a smile, a kiss and gifts from close family and friends.

Then yesterday, whilst I was sat in the Copenhagen office, briefing the agency team on a (rather exciting) project, it seemed to spring to my lips every few minutes. By the end of the day, I'm not sure if there's a person in the ten kilometre radius who didn't have it drummed into them...

It's my birthday today!!!

I went to the post office this morning to pick up the parcels that were waiting for me. I opened the couple of gifts and cards that had been propped up on the mantelpiece for the last couple of weeks. I bought a chocolate macaroon on the way home so I could have that with a cup of tea as I unwrapped the cashmere jumper, the book and the shiny new kitchen knife from family. The cards are propped up on the dining table and I'm just waiting in anticipation for for my swanky lunch on Saturday with the Frog.

That's it, I thought. And then the email messages, cards and messanger notes popped up. The fact that I've spent the past years ranting on means that no-one gets to forget even on a quiet year like this year. It's been tattooed on their brain! And I've quite gotten carried away with the birthday spirit, receiving an urgent "Where are you" call from a colleague who was waiting with four others for me to dial into the conference call line, and open a meeting as chairman of the call. Ooops.

Late afternoon will be a hot chocolate in a café with this lady and then a relaxed cosy evening with the Frog.

Perfect!

Luck

2005-11-29T11:04:00.000+01:00

Someone is looking down on me today.

For the first time in 10 days the trains ran without any strikes, faults on the lines or delays
My taxi driver this morning wasn't blaring his radio, sniffing, grinding his teeth or shouting into his mobile
There were no traffic jams on the way from the station to the office
I had very few emails in my inbox
I have ticked everything off my to do list for the day
I am flying to Copenhagen tonight for meetings tomorrow and the weather forecast says it'll be above zero with no snow
I am staying in this fabulous hotel tonight. I will arrive around early evening and snuggle up for the night with a book, my i-pod and room service.

Back to business on Thursday. My birthday has crept up on me this year... I shall be having a fairly low key day that day. My birthday present from Frog will be happening at a rather stunning restaurant which will have a post devoted to after the weekend ....

Snow Today

2005-11-26T13:54:00.000+01:00

Snow Reims
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

This is the view from our street this morning. Frog took the photos on his way to buy supplies at Monoprix.

We have friends from Lille arriving sometime today. They are negotiating their way down the motorway with a 12 month old baby.

The chicken cassoulet is sitting in the oven awaiting their arrival for a late lunch and a glass of wine.

Flakey

2005-11-25T16:44:00.000+01:00

It has been bitterly cold on the early morning train rides to and from Paris. It doesn't help that the train strikes have been dragging out with neither rhyme nor reason. So, I find myself stranded on strange platforms waiting for another train to arrive at 8pm, waiting in the freezing rain, for the last leg of a journey home.

I saw snow out of the carriage windows this morning. It started on the outskirts of Reims and lasted a large way to Paris. But I didn't see flakes actually fall until this afternoon.

I was so excited to see the snow drifting past our large glass office windows, that I called Frog at his desk at the house and burst into exuberant questioning in one of our Franglais conversations:

Frog: Allo?
Oiseau: Is it snowing there?
Frog: Allo?
Oiseau: Is it snowing there?
Frog: Non, c'est G******* (insert Frog's real name)

I've been chortling all afternoon over that one...

Tan

2005-11-23T10:44:00.000+01:00

tan
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

If you remember this then you'll know I needed to go boot shopping. I've been in and out of the small selection of Reims shops since I wrote that post. Finally yesterday, the replacements were found.

So, somehow, in the weird way shoe shopping can so often go, I went out for a cheap pair of black boots and came back with these wonderful, expensive, tan ones.

They got their first outing this morning. After two days of working from home, I walked to the station to take the train to Paris. Only to discover what I thought was yesterday's 24 hour strike by the SNCF is turning into a rolling strike. Two trains today (next at midday) and no idea if they'll be running tomorrow.

So my boots walked me back home where I'm trying to find the motivation to work. I think I'll go out again at lunchtime just to give the boots another stroll. Seems unfair to keep them cooped up inside.

Last Night

Frog: So how much did you say they cost?
Oiseau: I didn't
Frog: I'm going to stop believing you next time you say "I'm broke"
Oiseau: Think of them as an investment
Frog: Mmmmm

Creaking

2005-11-21T17:10:00.000+01:00

I spent part of this morning with a strange man wrapped around my mostly naked body, as he urged me to aspirez, whilst squeezing me and bending me tightly.

Yes, pretty much your standard Monday morning session with the Osteopath.

The sign that he was going to be good was the fact that I couldn't get an appointment with him for weeks. As I trundled across town this morning, I was mentally preparing the recitation, in French, of my long history of back problems.

I have a huge admiration for ostepaths. Once they've stripped you down to your underwear they watch you for a minute or so as you stand, rather self-consciously, facing a wall. They treat the body as a whole (and quite often have a previous profession in dance before moving into this medical field).

Within 30 seconds he asked me what age I was when I had damaged my ankle - a sprain or fracture? (answer: fourteen years) and then moved around to face me and ask me to open my mouth wide a couple of times as he watched my jaw movements. I have a large tension in the left side of my jaw which is the reason for my headaches and sporadic pain behind my ears, apparently.

Then he moved onto my back. He came to the same conclusion as the chiropractor that I had when I was sixteen: when I was very young I must have had a big fall and landed down hard on my bum. Except no-one in my family can think of where or when this might have been.

The bottom part of my spine is ecrasé (crushed) from the cocyx to the fifth vertabrae up. It twists around, providing a dip and curve in my lower back that shouldn't be there. Meaning there's no vertabrae to work on popping back but long term care and soins to generate a little more suppleness and wellness in the region.

All this means that when I'm tired and stressed and the muscles are knackered from travelling with heavy bags, my back simply and painfully gives up.

The odd part (if you're still reading by this point) was when he looked at my central torso. Apparently, I have a lot of tension and problems here and he started asking about problems with my lungs when I was a child or asthma and allergies, breathing in fumes (no, no and non, unless you can count recent exposure to paint fumes, which apparently I can't).

Continuing in his attempt to track down the potential exposure of my fumes problem... 'What did my parents do as a profession?'... When he asked what Dad did, and I replied "he wasn't there", he followed up by enquiring what age I was when he left. "Ahhh, I think that was difficult and you have a lot of problems here" - pointing at my centre. It was the only time I've felt a bit hokummed by an osteopath. But it's also something to add to my list of reasons that Dad won't be at the wedding! (Aside to my sister - it's a joke, laugh...)

The rest of the session was given to very gentle manipulations of the spine, cocyx, neck and breastbone. I say gentle, but it bloody hurt. Before the final curling and squeezing at the end.

So, I have another séance in a couple of weeks and a few simple daily stretching exercises to keep me busy in the meantime. That's when I miss English carpets, since stretching out on the shiny, hard parquet is not quite as comfortable as the blue swirly carpet of my childhood. Never thought I'd miss the 70's turquoise paisley patterns, but I do now!

Dust

2005-11-17T11:58:00.000+01:00

The Frog's verdict the other day was :

Cooking - Excellent
Cleaning - Average

He was referring to my efforts in the house. And the reason he deserves a smack is that it is a long time since he contributed to either. (In his defence, when he was unemployed last year in Paris, I never picked up so much as a bottle of Cif and he always cleaned).

Following a recent couple of incidents, I'm actually a little ashamed. Firstly, we had borrowed Frog parents' vacuum cleaner before my Mum stayed, since our vacuum cleaner had recently died. Secondly, shortly after a visit by his parents to our flat, Frog appeared home from work bearing a brand new snazzy, bagless vacuum cleaner that his mum had selected and bought for us.

So, since we are currently still both working and yes, the flat cleanliness has something to be desired, we are asking Mother Frog's cleaner, Solange, if she can spend a few hours a week on our flat.

She has said she's more than happy to, and suggested to Frog that she could do the ironing as well, "but check with Oiseau first", she said.

When Frog asked me, we were actually both rather stumped as to the last time the iron made an appearance in our flat. In fact, since I destroyed the last iron in Paris (in a rather nasty 'iron shaped hole' in the acrylic blue carpet incident) the only iron we possess is buried somewhere and is an old rather crap one that Frog had hidden away. Nothing like the steam pressured machines that the French are so fond of.

Before Solange arrives I will probably end up on a trip to Darty to buy an iron that (whilst not in the price range of a steam machine) works and looks as if it was manufactured this century. Then I will embark upon the obligatory 'pre-cleaner arrival' mad cleaning spree.

The actual extent of our slovenliness may never be found out...

Girly Hag

2005-11-15T20:21:00.000+01:00

Isn't that a pretty bouquet? Yes, the wedding planning is moving ahead. I have large folders of bouquet , room decoration and homemade favours ideas on the computer; stacks of magazines with marked pages; excel spreadsheets with budgets (versions: base case, best case, worst case and 'today's case'), guest lists, addresses; a ringbinder with snazzy dividers including all the supplier estimates and contact details...

Yes, I am in my project management element.

And to top it all, my jaw dropped to the ground when Frog suggested we went to last weekend's Wedding Fair in Reims. Had I heard of it? Yes, of course I had but I hadn't even considered telling him about it as I was sure I'd get a belligerent, 'do we have to' response. Although once we were there, I realised he probably wanted to see the pretty models in the fashion show. And there was the bonus that on the way out, we bumped into his Godfather at the adjacent Food & Wine Fair, selling the snails he farms. (Yes, only in France).

I'm not going to jinx things by putting too much wedding detail here (mainly because we are still arguing over the costs of the details). But I can update you on two current topics:

The Dress
After a day of dress trying on last month, Mum and I reduced the selection to a 'final three'. All very different. My sister is arriving in Reims this Friday night, and she will help me make the final choice. Oooh la la.

The Hag Do
Ahhh yes. I confidently told my sister (as chief and sole bridesmaid) that I didn't want a traditional hen night, but I would love to have a night out in London with my favourite friends - male and female. Half of my good mates are male, and I can't think of anything very exciting about a night out with just girls. No offence to my best girl friends, but it wouldn't be inclusive of everyone.

My favourite London restaurant, bar... I had images of a fun, tipsy night out.

Then this weekend happened.

And so The Boys decided that they wanted to organise a stag weekend. The type that they have organised in the past, that involved meticulous planning; taxis turning up in the middle of the night; random dodgy hotel rooms to stay alone and await 4 am calls on where to find a hidden set of clothes; mystery clown costumed journeys on British Rail to find the group; en route forfeits to be completed in order to get the full set of directions (not of the naughty kind but rather the plain embarassing kind for a shy, retiring lass like myself) and... of course... much drinking.

Somewhere in the drunken haze of that weekend in Lille, I said yes to this. On the proviso that they involved my sister, invited all my girl mates and someone in the group promised to wear the 'let's be a mite sensible about all this' hat.

I had thought that my sister would be the one wearing the aforementioned hat. However, she would now seem to be one of the most enthusiastic member of the organising committee. She's already told me she is rather proud of the fact that she came up with the moniker 'Hag' to describe the event and I have a sinking feeling this may be payback for the years of bullying that she endured as the younger sister.

Should I be worried?!

Quirky Facts

2005-11-13T11:20:00.000+01:00

I was tagged by Andrea a couple of weeks ago. This is a bit of a recycle from last January. But I figure a lot of readers weren't around back then!

I grew up with my Mum & younger sister in Dorset, my grandma lived just down the road. Quite the female powerhouse...
I have a half brother from my Dad's second marriage.
My brother is 14 years old and lives in London with his Mum.
My brother and I look more like each other than my sister and I. That's because we both have large noses. He hasn't developed the complex yet.
My mum is 7 1/2 inches shorter than me - I grew up thinking I was a giant freak. I never realised it was her who was the abnormal one.
All sides of my family have blue eyes.
I can say "My name is Anna", count to ten and manage to order in a market in Hindi.
I used to play the oboe and the cor anglais. I became quite good but my mum said listening to me learn was like listening to a cow in pain.
I played in the Dorset Youth Orchestra and spent weekends and holidays on residential courses at a very expensive boarding school which had the biggest cockroaches I have still ever seen. That put a seal on my opinion of private education.
I used to go the school where my mum teaches. Luckily she only started doing the sex ed classes after I left.
I scraped a"C" in A level French because I never concentrated on the grammar. Plus ça change...
I moved to New York to work for 2 years when I was 27 years old, I lived on the Upper West Side and discovered the joys of Jewish Delis.
I learnt to rollerblade in Central Park.
I was living in Manhattan on 9/11/01.
After working in India when I was 18 years old, I travelled on my own for 2 months and freaked my mother out. She said she has vowed never to worry so much over me again.
I later travelled on my own to Egypt & Thailand. I liked travelling alone and meeting new people but am happy now I've found a frog as travelling companion.
I used to think I wanted to work in the theatre as a producer until I decided that I couldn't bear to spend my life around actor types.
Instead, I now work out new ways to market soap, pasta sauce & washing powder.
I tried working out new ways to market software, hardware and business services but it wasn't as much fun.
Because I have moved around in the last 13 years most of my friends are around the world.
I used to have a nose stud.
The first time I went skiing I broke my wrist and the first time I really snowboarded I tore part of my knee.
General consensus is that I am rather clumsy.
Happily, even though Frog is very sporty he matches me in clumsiness (I am not allowed to mention his rollerblading dark tunnel incident anymore).
When the ambulance came to pick up the frog at exit of the dark tunnel, even though we'd been seeing each other for 3 months I didn't know his address to tell the ambulancemen. I got a distinct 'you English floozy' look from the men.

I think everybody on this planet has now done this meme, so no tagging, but feel free to play along....

11/11

2005-11-11T14:13:00.000+01:00

WW1 German Graves
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

So, today is another jour ferié for me. Catching up on correspondance, wedding planning and housework is the order of the day.

The French take Armistice Day as a holiday and I, without thinking, asked the German team I work with, if they have a holiday today too. Clearly not.

However, since the futility of the young Germans' deaths seems as relevant to me as the the allies' young generation, here are some photos of the WW1 cemetries that are scattered through this area of France.

Everybody Loves Those... Stinky Boots

2005-11-10T10:27:00.000+01:00

When I was younger I had a slight problem with my feet. The slight problem was that they stank. I used to arrive home in the summer, and mum would instruct me to take my shoes off, put them outside, and then escort me to the bathroom to wash my feet. This procedure had to happen before I was allowed to do anything else.

My housemates at University would agree, they liked me. Hated my feet.

But once I left University, I'm not sure if I could afford a better class of shoe, or my hormones stopped hormoning. But my feet became a lesser issue. Not a hum, not a whiff.

Then last year I bought some knee high black boots. They started off fine, but one year later, cold weather and winter approaching, they've come back out of the wardrobe and it would appear they are starting to hum a little. I noticed it before Frog. And now when he sees me arrive home, wearing the boots, in a echo of my teenage years I am ordered straight to the bathroom.

It's clear I have to buy a new pair of boots. But this week before I've had a chance to get to the shops, I had to travel to Hamburg. Ideal autumn, comfortable, smart boot wearing opportunity. No heels, no back problems, there actually was no choice. It's okay, I thought. I'll get there, check into hotel, no one needs to know.

Charles de Gaulle airport security had a different idea. As I lifted my overnight bag, laptop bag, handbag onto the security belt, I slipped off my scarf and coat and prepared to walk through the scanner. The security woman in charge gestured to my boots and asked me to remove them and place them on the xray belt.

Panic. I screwed my face up. She thought I was unhappy about walking in tights across the airport floor, and in a concilliatory gesture brought out the slip on foot covers. Non, non ça-va, merci, I muttered. 'You never have to see these people again' I thought and bent to remove my boots and act completely ignorant of the odour that was about to hit the air.

Shuffling through, the beeper went off - underwired bra and all that. So, I stood for an interminable time as I was scanned. Avoiding all eye contact I then waited for the curled up boots to pass down the conveyor belt, to a point where I could snatch them quickly and hurriedly slip them back on again.

I walked with a forced nonchalance away from the security area into the business lounge. I didn't look back once.

Boot shopping. Saturday.

Fuelled

2005-11-06T17:42:00.000+01:00

One of the things that has really changed since I left London nearly 5 years ago, is my tolerance for alcohol. In New York, I would have great nights of cocktails with my buddies, but it wasn't cool to get 'fall over drunk'.

Then I moved to Paris, and in Paris, it's just not cool to get anywhere close to drunk. A couple of glasses of wine with a meal, biensûr, but I stuggle to remember times when I was really tipsy.

Well, now, I think it's safe to say I have drunk more in the last two days, then in the last two months combined.

Frog and I have been getting very wound up recently. Long days, early starts, travelling, back pain, wedding budgeting, blah. So, I knew we were both looking forward to a bit of an escape this weekend.

We started with good civillised intentions. Friday night, an apéro at our flat with this lovely lady, followed by dinner. Actually, champagne apéro turned into dinner with a good couple of bottles between three, and then champagne and ratafia bottles drained back at the flat. Fuelled by drink, our poor guest was subjected to Frog's solo dancefloor exhibition. The living room parquet became his piste to convince us that a waltz would be ideal for a first dance at the wedding. Yeah, not really convinced. I think, around the time that Frog moved onto his favourite animal impressions*, it was clearly time to call it a night.

Hungover, the alarm went off at 7:30am and we dragged our sore heads up the motorway to Lille. A bunch of my old friends were descending on the city from London, to join up with the boy who now lives there with his lovely French girlfriend and baby daughter. It was a boys' birthday celebration weekend, wives, girlfriends, children all left behind, and I was only allowed there as honoury (French resident) guest, making the group ten strong.

I will pass over the hazy details of the past two days. They'd already been going 24 hours when we turned up. It was a city that 'charmed us', as Frog put it. But I'm not sure the city was similarily charmed by our drunken bufoonery. Pubs; cafés; restaurants; drinking game forfeits; dodgy, smokey underground bars with UV lighting; sweaty clubs where the married friends egged on the single boys of the group, intent on wooing the local female population with their beery English charm. Final shapes were thrown on the dancefloor and the last crawlers got back to the hotel shortly before breakfast was ready.

But it was fun. Once a year, completely trashed, kind of fun! Frog loved it, and my English boys loved Frog, and so do I. Hungover in exhaustion, we will slob in front of a DVD tonight, weekend escape having been sucessfully completed.

* Can you guess what kind of animal? All national stereotype kind of answers are encouraged.

Melancholia #2

2005-11-03T13:05:00.000+01:00

Autumn Vines
Originally uploaded by oiseau.

Yes, still my favourite word, I am suffering from this and other more physical ailments.

After a glorious weekend, of sun, warmth, wedding dress shopping, bistro dining and vineyard ambling, I have dipped a little.

Chronic back pain is almost as much fun for others to hear about, as for the person suffering. So I shan't bore you with the details

The couple of day's respite that I've had were constructive - these photos show why I'm happy to be in Reims, out of the big city.

I'll return now to my heat pad, cushions on the floor and Crosby Stills & Nash on the stereo.

One in a Million

2005-10-26T22:56:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, I called my younger sister after a couple of meetings in London. We were meeting for dinner near her home in south London and needed to agree time and place for the rendezvous. When we were younger and on holiday, we were forced by mum to share a bed, which we complained and moaned about. I have memories of sharing a bed, in a hotel room, on New Years Eve, her full of cold and snot and me thinking this was some evil revenge my mum had concocted. She may be 28 in human years, but in sister years she will always be 13. However, I don't complain about sharing a bed with her now, when it means I get to spend an (affordable) evening in her company.

As I sat on the tube with laptop bag, overnight wheelie bag and large handbag (wondering, maybe this is why I'm suffering such back pain at the moment) I breathed a sigh of relief that I had a seat and space for the bags. Then the tube stopped and an announcement came to change trains for onward journeys. The woman opposite me, raised her eyebrows and gave a grimace. Bloody Northern Line, I muttered, and raced with the hoardes across a platform to join another train that would travel to Clapham North.

My heart sank as I stumbled with my bags, tripping and rushing down the platform for a carriage that looked like there was squeezable space. The train had already been full and now another tube full of people were trying to leverage themselves in. I continued down the platform, glancing at the forms of bodies, waiting for the warning that the doors were going to close, before I threw myself into the closest carriage. There was little space but I just got myself, laptop bag and wheelie bag in as the doors closed behind me. Sadly, my rather large handbag wasn't so fortunate and was trapped between the doors, that were desperately trying to close.

I grabbed at the bag, pulling, my temperature rising as I was overheating in layers of jumpers, coat and embarassment. The girl next to me tried to pull the doors apart, to give me the required gap to rescue the bag. Finally, the warning sound ringing in my ears, the doors reopened and I pulled the bag quickly in.

At this point, I glanced up to say thankyou to my neighbour who was wiping black grease from her fingers.

"Oh"
"Oh"
"Hello!"

A quick automatic kiss on the cheek, gratitude and slow recognition, that the other half of the partnership in 'Mission Bag Rescue', was rooted in a longer history. It was my sister.

First Milestone Reached

2005-10-24T16:24:00.000+02:00

Yay, we have a date!*

May 20th 2006

Blimey.

I'm off to London tomorrow for work and a stayover at my sister's. She's planned dinner at a lovely Japanese restuarant celebrating her status as bridesmaid and giving me a chance to flash my ring at a new victim.

On Thursday evening, Mum is taking advantage of her school half-term and I'm taking advantage of her patience to start trying on dresses. I have three rendezvous set up with the local bride's shops. I shall be very disappointed if I don't get good blogging material out of that!

Saturday morning will see us start our dossier with the priest. I have revised my opinion of the Catholic Church after a very pleasant first meeting with the priest. He was very keen on ensuring that the service is adapted to meet the linguistic needs and - as he put it - reflect my part of the christian family. Yes, I was bowled over!

Frog and I are starting to put together some really lovely plans for the day, to mix the English and French styles and traditions. However, I already have a bruised shin from dinner on Saturday evening with visiting friends, when I received a sharp blow from under the table. Apparently, I'm supposed to keep some of them a surprise.

My lips are sealed. Well, for now...

* and a village hall to celebrate in, with Frog Father's cousin providing the catering!

Chilled

2005-10-23T12:10:00.000+02:00

Sunday morning, Van Morrison playing, Frog at the gym leaving me in peace to cope with my hangover. English friends visiting, much wine consumed...

I like this literary meme she's done, so I thought I'd play along:

1. Take the first five novels from your bookshelf.
2. Book 1 -- first sentence.
3. Book 2 -- last sentence on page 50.
4. Book 3 -- second sentence on page 100.
5. Book 4 -- second to last sentence on page 150.
6. Book 5 -- final sentence of the book.
7. Make the five sentences into a paragraph.
8. Feel free to "cheat" to make it a better paragraph.
9. Name your sources.
10.Post to your blog.

I've also included the source and background to the books, I love the fact I can remember exactly where and when I bought them. They're usually attached to a particular moment and place in my life, easily reminded by the random bookmarks I use and leave in them.

In the paragraph below, I have changed the narrative voice by taking out names and pronouns. I guess all my books must be very character driven - there would have been a cast of many characters within this one paragraph.

Barrabas came to us by sea, she wrote in her delicate calligraphy. You're in my mind now because I'm travelling in a tank, and I feel you in my body because I'm sweating slightly and it reminds me of the times we managed to be together, in spite of the fighting all around. There is malocclusion and diplopia. He plays them through on the stereo, and she tells him it sounds like one of those Scottish bands from the eighties, like Orange Juice or Aztec Camera or Josef K. Ten minutes later, he was out on the street again, walking toward the hospital to see her.

Isabel Allende - The House of the Spirits
This is a second hand US paperback, I think I must have taken it off my sister when I met her part way through her South American backpacking odyessy in Cuba.
Hanan Al-Shaykh - Beirut Blues
Bought in a second-hand shop in Spitalfields, London, prior to a trip to Italy for a friend's wedding party in Tuscany. An excursion for a couple of nights, up to Venice, on my own, was a slightly odd experience. Too many couples for my liking, but I got preferential treatment from waiters as a lone female diner. Lots of free dessert, little extra dishes and digestives would appear on my table with a wink.

The abandoned 'bookmark' is a stamped train ticket from Venice to Florence.
Martin Amis - Time's Arrow
I bought this in my final year at Warwick University from the campus bookshop. Amis visited us to give a seminar and discussion one evening. The head of our English department was Jeremy Treglown , a renowned academic, literary critic and one of Amis' father's old friends. I think the visit was a favour. I didn't take to Amis, I found him quite the arrogant, cold fish. I've also struggled with his books. But I do recommend Time's Arrow, it tells the story, backwards, of the life of a Nazi war criminal. The only one of his books I've enjoyed reading.

Abandoned 'bookmark' is a letter from my Mum, (pre-email), with the 'latest' news and gossip from home.
Simon Armitage - All Points North
I bought this collection of poetry, short stories and thoughts whilst living in London, to read on a solo trip to Thailand. Armitage is a leading British poet, he also broadcasts on the radio a fair amount, he must be in his early forties now. I remember seeing him when I was seventeen, at an evening organised for the local sixth-formers in our county (Dorset). New, young poets read and explained their poetry to a group of spotty teenagers in a lecture theatre in Wimborne. I remember Simon Armitage most vividly, and bought a signed copy of his newly published collection. I think Carol Anne Duffy was the other poet.

Abandoned bookmark is an entrance ticket to Wat Phra Chetuphon in Bangkok, where I think I had a very painful massage en route to a diving trip on Ko Tao.
Paul Auster - Oracle Night
The most recent purchase, Paul Auster is an American author, who the French seem to love. I think I bought this in the WHSmiths at Waterloo on the return leg of a working trip to London. A slight magical realism feel to it, I seem to remember, but very pleasurable reading.