I'm Ready For My Close Up

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!

Surprise!

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!

Saturday Night's Alright...

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.

Gender Politics

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?

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!

One Year On

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.

Gourmandise

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!

Late Starter

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.

London

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

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.

(Mis)Communication

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

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...

Wobbly

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.

The hardest part...

... 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.