Random fireworks in Monaco - because it's Saturday?

There are lots of things I like about Monaco. One of them is its ability to put on really good firework displays - the one tonight was a little unexpected, but all the better for it!

(If anyone knows what they are actually likely to have been celebrating, do let me know in the comments. I choose to think they are just celebrating Saturday, and this will be a weekly occurrence...)

Some somewhat blurry photos follow - you can just about see the giant ship at the bottom left of the photos, which has been parked there all week, plus a couple of other boats passing, all outlined in lights. All the boats applauded at the end of the fireworks by sounding their horns, which I quite liked in a generally anthropomorphic kind of way.

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Salmon, green beans and rice with a garlic-chilli-lemon sauce

Today's dinner worked surprisingly well! Salmon fillets with rice and remaining green beans, with a chilli-garlic-lemon butter sauce (based, more or less, on this recipe - except with more garlic, and cayenne pepper instead of hot sauce.)

 

I think I shall make this again one day, it was lovely.

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I have beaten the Washing Machine of Doom!

Well, sort of beaten. More snuck past and luckily it was yawning, or something, so it didn't notice and so I triumphed! (That analogy is lacking quite a lot, I know. This is the level of incoherence my washing machine has driven me to.)

It started so well. I came back from the beach, and decided that, in keeping with my new domestic role, I'd do some laundry. I've done millions of laundry loads, this can't be too complicated. Once I'd found the laundry powder and fabric softener (the worst part about moving into an already occupied flat is finding where everything lives...), just dump that in, pick the temperature you want, and Bob's your uncle!

You'd think.

The first complication is that my washing machine speaks Italian. I, bar a few useful words like caffè and grazie, do not. Still, even with this linguistic gulf between us, I figured "30°C rapido" was easy enough to understand, and so turned the dial appropriately. There's three buttons on my washing machine - process of elimination (and Google) suggest that "Avvio" is the one to make the machine go.

And, on pressing it, lights happen and the machine starts up. Water sloshes in, all is going fabulously. I open Twitter and stop paying attention to the domesticity around me, bathing in a warm glow of success.

Some minutes later, it dawns on me that there's an odd silence. The machine is not actively washing. Even "rapido" can't be *this* quick, I think. There are lights flashing.

Lights flashing are never good, have you noticed? No rhythmic reassuring blinking ever happens, it's always "PANIC NOW SOMETHING'S BROKEN" type flashing.

My washing machine flashes the start button (which is also the pause button - do washing machines commonly have pause buttons? It's not like it's a DVD player...) and the "washing in progress" light. A blatant lie, at this point. Washing is very much not in progress.

I try tentatively prodding the start button. Maybe this would make it work again. No. OK. I try turning the dial back to 0 - all the lights go off. The door still won't open. I run the whole cycle again, thinking it was maybe just a fluke, but sure enough, the lights start flashing and the washing stops at the same point.

I call my parents. They laugh. I call my husband. "That's never happened to me before."

Bereft of other options, and devoid of hope, I turn the machine back to 0 and wait. Eventually, the door locky thing clicks, and I can open the door. For once, luck was with me and water didn't gush out all over the nice clean floor. But the clothes were soaking and not yet hang-up-able.

There are symbols at the end of my washing-machine-cycle-dial. One is a shower-head, one is a spiral, and one is a bucket with a hole in the bottom. I decide that if the cycle of 30°C rapido hasn't ever managed to finish, my clothes probably need showering (which I assume means rinsing) and set the dial accordingly. Nervously, I watch its every spin and slosh. Eventually it starts spinning on its own, and draining follows. Success is mine, at last!

Sadly, my swimming costume was in the washing machine, so going back to the beach to recover from the stress now looks unlikely. Wearing a cold wet swimming costume must be one of the worst feelings ever. I may take myself for a restorative coffee in the sunshine...

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Cleaning all the things

Today, I have cleaned all the things! Well, ok, maybe not all. But I have started, that counts for something, right? (If you haven't seen this Hyperbole and a Half post, you've clearly been living under a rock. Go read it now. In fact, read all of her blog, she's amazing. Then don't come back, because the comparison is not flattering to me!)

Anyway, assuming you did come back, welcome back. Have a couple of nice pictures of some mini-boats I took this morning.

 

 

My own epic struggle has not been so epic, nor so much of a struggle, yet. I have decided to try a new thing, and deal with the whole mess in bits, rather than doing it all, becoming knackered, and then hating everything because it's all too much. So far I have cleaned the bits that were the most visibly in need, and I've unpacked the boxes that were most in my way. (See, seeing small results motivates people - who knew all those L&D trainers and consultants were right after all?)

Tomorrow, I shall tackle the rest of the bathroom in its entirety. Once I have a clean bathroom, that's a third of the flat done. (At least - our bathroom seems proportionally big compared to the total flat size!) Then I shall tackle the bedroom, and after that I shall consider tackling the living room. This consideration may take a while, because God. Our living room.

Once that is clean, it will probably be time to start all over again - this is what I hate about cleaning. It never, ever ends. Even if no one's actually living in a place and getting it dirty, it gets itself dirty! Why dust - if I had a chance to ask one question, it might be that. (Though I'd regret it afterwards, I mean really, what a waste of a question. But still. Almost as bad as mosquitos, dust.)

Lastly, and more seriously, I have some bad news. The padlocks from the Pont des Arts appear to have spawned a Cote d'Azur branch of the species. Parasites, clutter, declarations of undying love, call it what you will. But it was bad enough when confined to one bridge in one city in one country. Since then it's started spreading to other bridges in Paris, and is widely present in other cities. And now, they've got as far as Monaco. It's like Pandemic 2, but with padlocks. Madagascar should consider closing its port...

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Summer arrives - couch 2 5k and strawberries

The sunshine has arrived! This is a momentous thing, having come from the frozen north where winter lasts for ever (especially this year!) and it has inspired me to be healthier.

I know, I know, me and every other person in the Western world. But still. I'm at least 10 kilos heavier than I want to be, and 2 dress sizes bigger than I'd like, so it's time to do something about it.

In this case, "something" is starting out with beginning some exercise and eating more fruit and vegetables (bonus: they're cheaper than eating out, so there's that) - I think baby steps are definitely the way to go here.

I've started doing the Couch 2 5k programme again (I'm sure I blogged at length about this previously) - it aims to get people who do no exercise (hi!) from that point to being able to run 5km. It worked last time (in that I went from being totally utterly unfit to being able to run for 30 minutes consecutively without dying), and I surprised myself by finding I actually enjoyed it, so keep your fingers crossed for me this time too...

The first run went well - I didn't die - and I had breakfast on the beach. Strawberries are awesome. Tonight we are having salad nicoise, which rocks.

Breakfast of champions

(Side note while I think of it: I'm likely to write a bit about food and the like on this blog - and not all of it will be the super-healthy food you probably think I ought to be eating in order to lose weight. I thank you in advance for not commenting on this.)

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Freedom!

OK, so, it's been a while. How are you all?

Me? Well, let's see. Since we last spoke, I've quit my job and just finished moving house - I'm now down south full-time again! Hooray!

All I now need is for summer to actually start... Today's not looking likely, but maybe tomorrow. It's June - is a little sunshine on the Mediterranean coast really too much to ask?

My major tasks over the next week or so are:

• Unpack
• Clean
• Work out how the French unemployment system works
• Launch the web design business I've got floating around my head
• Make lots of shiny things!

These will all, admittedly, be easier to focus on if the weather's not so awesome. But I'd still quite like some sunshine, please...

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Menton lemon festival - fête du citron 2013

EDIT: I accidentally deleted this post, but have managed to recover it. More or less. So, if you think you've seen this before, you have...

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I wrote this post on Sunday last week. Technical difficulties have meant I can't post it til now. I see no reason to let that stop me actually using it now, so here you go... 

  So. The sun didn't last after all. Your intrepid author didn't let that stop her, though, because today, my friends, is lemon day.

Each year, Menton hosts a festival of lemons and oranges.

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This year is the 80th anniversary of the festival, and it's as brilliant as I remembered. Sadly, I forgot my camera in Paris, so you'll have to make do with phone-photos. Note the grey sky- the thunder started just as we got on the train to Nice, and by the time we got off, the rain was torrential!

Birthday cake!

As this is the 80th anniversary, the theme of this year's festival is Around the World in 80 Days. Places around the world, and methods of transport feature heavily.

House of cards:

Big Ben:

Trains:

Hot air balloon:

A wolf in the frozen snow. (No, I don't remember that bit in the story either...)

The Statue of Liberty. (Her torch lit up when the clouds got heavier. Light sensitive citrus fruit statues. Awesome.)

I think we then moved on to China:

And then to India:

Then, we travel by boat:

And, lastly, we move into the Middle East:

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Going through security at the airport

This seems to be a source of some confusion for some people, but luckily I am here to clear it all up, based on my extensive experience with going through idiot security procedures. Please follow the below instructions, so that you don't hold up the rest of us who have looked this stuff up before we get to the security scanner.

1. Don't leave a bottle of water in your bag. Don't, if you have done so, try to argue that you should be allowed to take it through, even if it's sealed. I know it's a stupid rule, but it's a very clear one, and you won't win. You're just slowing down the process and pissing everyone off.

2. Put your make-up (all of it, especially liquid foundation) into a small, clear plastic bag. Make sure it all fits into the small bag and that you can close the small bag around the make-up. If it doesn't, take less. How much make-up do people need? Similarly with hand cream, face cream, whatever the hell that all is...

3. Don't wear high-heels. Not only are they dangerous if you need to get out of the airplane if something goes wrong (and I will consider killing you myself if your heels break the inflatable life raft thingy, should we crash into the sea) but you need to take them off and have them x-rayed. This is also true of boots in general, even flat boots (but with less emergency escape danger) - trainers are good. Try trainers.

4. Don't wear a belt. This may mean wearing different trousers, but you'll have to take your belt off anyway and have it x-rayed, and it'll be quicker to just wear other trousers. If you do wear a belt, please don't wait until you're about to go through the scanner before you think about sloooooowly taking it off and carefully coiling it in the little plastic tray. Especially if you also have to then take off your heels and carefully put on the plastic bag shoe replacement things.

5. Take your coat, scarf, gloves, etc off before you get to the xray machine. Empty your pockets while you're waiting, not after the scanner beeps at you. Yes, it will notice your keys and coins. Really.

6. In general, don't argue with the security people. They have clearly got strict instructions and not a lot of scope for initiative. They presumably know the rules are idiotic, but they still have to enforce them anyway. These are not the people to complain to - try the companies running the airport or, better yet, the Ministry of the Interior or your local equivalent. I also recommend starting a blog to bitch about the trauma of the whole thing. It's remarkably cathartic. (cf 80% of my recent posts...)

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Breakfast at Nicole's...

Breakfast today is smoked salmon and scrambled egg, with coffee.

Perfect, especially with the sunshine we had earlier. It's clouding over now, sadly, but you can imagine it's a view a bit like this. (It's not, but that photo wasn't taken far away from here, and I like it, so there you go...)

I love living here...

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Telemarketing - mobile phones

Dear mobile phone company,

Yes, I have indeed been a loyal customer of yours for several years now. Do you know why? Let me tell you.

It's not because I don't know about other mobile companies, or because I think your offer is amazing. It's not because your advertising sways me.

It's largely, in fact, because your offer is good enough*, and you haven't pissed me off enough to make me want to move.

So what on earth made you think that getting telemarketers to call me, in a foreign language, at dinner time was a good idea? What made you think that trying to sell me products I neither want nor need, over the phone, when I can barely hear your telemarketer in his call centre anyway, was going to work?

If I want any other products from you, I have the internet: I can find them and purchase them, all by myself. (I have, in fact, just done this, if you'd check your records.)

Calling me just annoys me. I don't like phone calls, particularly not from strangers, particularly not when I've switched off from work and stopped thinking in French.

More calls like this will not make me expand my use of your products, it will make me change my service provider. I cannot be the only one - in fact, I can't imagine why telesales generates enough income to offset the previously-neutral-now-actively-pissed-off customers who will suddenly be inspired to start looking at alternatives.

Good job, guys.


* Read: no worse than anyone else's - all French mobile phone tariffs are crap.

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