Would you buy a bottle of champagne...

... 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

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...

... 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

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

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

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

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...

... 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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

P.S. I noticed that you're not earning AAdvantage® miles for your creditcardpurchases, which is so easy to do. For a limited time, with the Citi® PlatinumSelect® /AAdvantage® World MasterCard, you will earn 25,000 bonus miles after you make $250 in purchases with the card. And you will earn 1 AAdvantage® mile for every $1 spent on purchases up to 100,000 miles per year towards award travel on American Airlines flightsor with AAdvantage® program participants. To speak with a Citi representative about enrolling, please call 800-640-1517 (be sure to have your AAdvantage number handy). Or use this link to visit the Web site: www.fly25.citicards.com.

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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!