New Years Day

Did I show you the pictures from New Years Day here? It was stormy and the waves were *huge*! (It is, in hindsight, perhaps not the best idea to walk alongside the beach or the port, when the waves are splashing so high they flood the street. Just in case any of you are in that position in the future.)

Anyway, some pics of some waves, just to prove that it's not all sunshine all the time here. (Though it is nice today.) The sky was definitely not happy at New Year.

Today, it looks more like:

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Christmas, the last part: Paris

I think we left the Christmas story at the point at which we'd found a working Eurostar. I'm too lazy to check, mind, so let's all just assume that's where we were. Train over was fine, except we were next to a bunch of teenagers, for whom Paris was their haven, and they didn't care what their richer friends who went across the other side of the world said. It was their haven. And they were going to meet all these - presumably famous - people, and blah, blah, blah. For hours. Hell really is other people.

Once we got there, we had just under 24 hours (23 hours, 59 minutes, to be precise) until our train back home to Villefranche. We were staying in a hotel near Place d'Italie, which was nice enough - the bathroom was scary though, the tiles had faces on. Distorted faces. And eyes. Horrible. The room was decorated with books though, so I approve of that.

We walked, a lot. I was going to get a map and colour it in to show you all how far we walked. Because I knackered my knee doing it, and wanted sympathy. But I can't find a map, so you can't see the extent to which we walked just yet. But we saw a lot, and had dinner at the restaurant around the corner from our old flat in Montparnasse (called Zazous, I recommend it, if you're in the area - even with the refurb, which makes it look like you're eating in someone's living room. Food is good!) and we walked around the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadero and down the Champs-Elysees. All nicely decorated and full of Christmas Market - and people. So very many people. None of whom paid the slightest bit of attention to anyone else around them. But the lights were pretty, and the giant wheel in Place de la Concorde made a lovely backdrop for the wedding photos the couple we saw were having taken. And the Tuileries was pretty in the moonlight. Blah, if you've been to Paris, you know all this. If you haven't been to Paris, stop reading my blog and go and book tickets. Now.

The next morning, despite my aching knee, we went to Sacre Coeur, then down through Chatelet, past Notre Dame to Gibert Jeune and Saint Michel, and then back to the hotel to get our bags to go home. I recommed first class TGV travel, in case you're interested - huge seats, no screaming children, bliss for several hours. And finally, we were home!

Many photos here - a selection follow, because it's my blog and I can...

Eiffel Tower:

Ugliest Building in Paris:

Eiffel Tower and some peace garden statue thing they've got at the bottom of the Champs de Mars:

The big wheel in Place de la Concorde:

And from the Tuileries:

Lights at the end of the Champs - they flashed, which you can't see...

Sacre Coeur:

St Eustache:

Notre Dame:

Shakespeare and Co - it is a very, very good thing I never went in here when we lived there, I'd have had even more books than I ended up with as it was. (If you're looking for an English bookshop in Paris though, go there. Really.)

Or here. Gibert Jeune sells all kinds of books and is fabulous and I love it. All of them, since there are several shops selling different topics of books. Except the Law shop, that one is kind of boring. But still. Go there too.

And, lastly, the mad fountains by the Centre Pompidou:

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Winter sunshine

I know some of you are still freezing, so I thought I'd show you what winter looks like here. I was walking around in a t-shirt today. I know you wanted to know that.

Some photos:

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Christmas, Part 4: the UK

I think we're up to Part 4 now. The UK can be summed up pretty quickly:

God-awful flight over there. We left an hour and a half, 2 hours late. Got diverted via Liverpool, because we didn't have enough fuel to carry on circling Manchester. Got told we were going to be bussed back to Manchester with our luggage. Then got told we weren't going to be bussed back, because we weren't allowed off the plane. We weren't, apparently, allowed off the plane, because we had flown in from a non-EU country, and Liverpool airport apparently doesn't have any customs and immigration staff available midway through a Monday afternoon.

A long hour or two later, we were refuelled and ready to fly back to Manchester, but Manchester was shut again because of the cold. Easyjet handed out water. Still no explanation at all in any language other than English as to what was happening - I explained to the couple behind me who spoke very little English, and who were utterly confused. No one on staff spoke any French, so they wouldn't do an announcement. My friends were still waiting for me in Manchester, ostensibly for lunch. As the afternoon wore on, lunch looked less and less likely.

Finally we took off and landed in Manchester at about 5pm. (Not quite the 12:30 promised - does anyone know if Easyjet owe me money or something? I'm doubting it, but you never know...) Finally got into town, had a drink with friends and we all went to Leeds to find our hotel and have dinner. I was shattered by this point, so undoubtedly made crap company over the evening - thank you, Jenny and Fran for putting up with me nonetheless! And the curry was awesome - I miss curry!

The next day we went to London, where we stayed in a really cool hotel near Old Street. Can't remember its name, but the staff were fantastic. Met up with my old boss for lunch, did a lot of reading by the fire in the hotel, generally did very little, until it was time to go to Paul's family for Christmas Eve. Oh, and went to the dentist. Where I found out that ten years of neglect and ignorance hadn't really damaged my teeth nearly as much as I had feared, and all I need is 2 appointments of gum torture and cleaning, and I should be back to normal again. Fabulous.

Christmas was fun - I discovered I am crap at Scrabble, which wasn't really a surprise. Lunch was lovely, as ever, and I got a fabulous Christmas present. He is now sitting on the breakfast bar near the non-working telly. Boxing Day was lovely, too - we go to see all of Paul's extended family, and it's nice (unlike our extended family, who plot ways to kill each other when we're in the same room for more than 5 minutes. No, really.)

The day after Boxing Day, we went back to France, on the Eurostar. Which had started working again by then, thankfully. We were a little worried, given Eurostar's recent history of total collapse in bad weather, but they'd sorted it all out by the time we were travelling. Which is nice.

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Calligraphy

I know, I know, I still haven't finished writing about Christmas. I'm sure most of you don't care. But I will finish anyway, at some point. This morning, though, I've been learning to write.

While he was moving my stuff, my brother felt completely free to comment on most of my things, one of which was a gorgeous sterling pen and ink set I bought as a Christmas present to myself when we were in Paris last year.

He asked when I'd last used it - if, in fact, I'd ever used it. Well, I had used it, but he may have had a point that it hadn't been for a while. So, this morning I decided to open it up and relearn proper writing. Several hours of online instruction and practice later (doesn't time fly when you're having fun?) I have mastered the art of getting ink all over my fingers - and, worryingly, it's not coming out with soap - and also writing better. The below is one of my practice pieces, the beginning of a poem by Courtney Kuchta.

So there we go James, I do use my pen. Sometimes.

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Today's bracelet, and a photo from the window for you all

Photo from the window, for those of you stuck under the snow:


Today's bracelet, done instead of doing anything more useful:

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To Do/Done

This is mostly just a post for me. So feel free to ignore it.

Done already:
Registered with French tax people
Registered with doctor and had appointment
Made appointments for dentist
Bought large amounts of healthy food for the week
Made and listed this bracelet:

To Do:
UK Tax return
Custom 4-in-1 bracelet (when rings arrive)
Photograph and list steel bracelets (when clasps arrive)
Go supply shopping - need more sterling wire (square 20G and round 26Gish) and poss PMC3 clay... (when money allows)
Get blood tests done (when secu sociale number comes through. If secu sociale number comes through.)
Buy pillows (when money allows)

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Christmas, Part 3: The Alp and Geneva

Having survived our second night in The Frozen Car Park, we set off to go up an Alp for lunch. As you do. I spent most of this journey in bed in the back, too, having learnt from past experience that it was a good place to be. And it was warm - one of the few places in the bus that was, even with sunshine.

Up The Alp had lots of snow. This is a problem when you don't have shoes that cope with snow. And none of mine did, I'd found, in the carpark. So I decided we were going to an expensive restaurant, I am decidedly a city person, I would wear my heeled boots, snow be damned. It wasn't as much of a disaster as you might expect; I not only didn't fall over, but the heel actually helped grip in the snow. (Not much use in ice, but then, nor would any of my other boots have been.)

Lunch was lovely, and the restaurant (Le Blanchot, for any of you googling) was fantastic, friendly staff, and good heating. It's apparently easy to impress me after nearly freezing to death - just provide heating. But this place was good, and everyone enjoyed their food.

Eventually, though, it was time to get back in The Metal Box (after unloading an astonishingly large quantity of treacle. I think it was treacle. Nice to know we're not the only ones who ask for English food to be brought over!) and head to Geneva.

Paul and I had very sensibly booked a hotel room. I love my family, but I have never thought money better spent than that room for that night. It may have (deliberately, I think) smelt of fondue (I think they were piping it through the air conditioning, for atmosphere, since no one was cooking fondue in the corridor...) but it had a bath, and a huge bed, and space - about the same amount of space as we'd previously had to share with 4 other people. Bliss.

After a hot shower, we braved the snowy Geneva weather and went to find food. The old town in Geneva is very pretty, but would be vastly improved by a lack of snow - it compacts into the cobbles and freezes, making me nearly break my legs repeatedly. Kind of ruined it for me - I'll have to go back in the spring/summer, when it's thawed out.

An early start the next morning led us to meet James and Vix at the train station, heading for the airport. We all checked in with plenty of time to spare, to find that the flight was delayed due to the snow in the UK. In some vague attempt at crowd control, we only got our delay revealed in half hour intervals, so we had no idea when we were actually going to leave - as it turns out, we only took off an hour or so late, heading for The Frozen North, specifically, Manchester.

Photos from Up An Alp:

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New year, new jewellery

I haven't forgotten I'm supposed to be writing about Christmas. I'm working on it. I'm also working on finishing my story (up to 61k by now). And sorting out my tax return for the UK - that one's more a sort of passive sorting out, some may call it procrastinating, even. Possibly even ignoring it and hoping it will go away.

But I am also still making jewellery, and have three new bracelets that I made yesterday to show you.

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Christmas Part 2: The Journey to the Alp

This was, very obviously, the part of Christmas most fraught with potential for disaster. 5/6 people (depending on the day) in a small metal box, driving in icy, snowy conditions, in several foreign countries.

Miraculously, no one died.

I spent the journey up in The Metal Box in bed in the back. If you ever get the chance to be carried around by experienced sedan chair bearers, I recommend it - it must feel rather like that did. By far the best way to travel long distances, stretched out in bed with big windows all around you. (And I have tried several methods of travelling long distance - in case you were interested, and I will assume you are, else you wouldn't still be reading this sentence, the worst is by far travelling in a bus with no suspension where the seats are so high your feet don't reach the floor. Surrounded by chickens. Next to the bus toilet.)

Aside from random shouting by an Italian service station man when we tried to fill up with LPG - apparently cars are allowed, campervans, not so much. In which case, you'd think they would have a sign like this:



They didn't, and we never really got the bottom of why we weren't allowed to fill up. Remote internet research by Paul suggested it might be because our LPG pump converter thingy has an alarming tendancy to blow up occasionally. I think the phrase he quoted from Internet was "they will identify you by your dental records, if you're lucky." I decided Mum and Dad probably didn't need to know this little snippet of information; it wouldn't help reduce stress levels any. James and Vix looked thrilled to hear it though!

So, since I spent the whole time reading a book in the back, I can't tell you much about the journey. (The book was crap - so crap I can't even remember the name to warn you off. Premise was a good one - race against bad guys to save the world through visiting various ancient wonders and stuff; writing was utterly appalling, and it carried on a previous story, without giving you adequate introduction to who anyone was.)

We arrived in Chambery, eventually. It was dark, and snowy, and there didn't seem to be anywhere to park a rather large Metal Box in town. So, as you do, we found ourselves parking in the car park of a shopping centre for the night, with the intention - and this is important - of heading up to Meribel to see my big brother and his girlfriend. Where Paul and I would get a bed, since it would be my birthday. For one night, the car park was ok - there were fast food places, the shopping centre had free wifi, toilets, all mod cons. (We won't discuss the toilet in The Metal Box. Suffice to say that we were all thrilled to find real toilets in the shopping centre.)

However, the best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. The snow continued. Paul's flight up was delayed. (Unaccountably, he had opted not to run away from work a day early and spend an extra night in The Metal Box, but fly up on the Saturday and meet us in Chambery.) Internet predicted temperatures of -17 up in Meribel. LPG stops being gas at those kind of temperatures. Since the heating in The Metal Box ran on the *gas* part of LPG, it was decided we would stay in the car park another night.

We collected Paul from Chambery station - via the weirdest pub, it was like a Victoria station pub, down to the ugly carpet and furniture, but all in French and staffed by French people. Deeply disturbing. Then we went back to the car park, where James and I amused each other (if no one else) by recounting past horrors of Christmas and the various ways in which we had nearly died growing up. (Quite an impressive list, if I do say so myself.) And we played cards. My birthday dinner was in Flunch. (Which is sort of a French equivalent of Littlechef, but with slightly better food. And alcohol.)

The next day, The Metal Box shuddered to life in the sunshine, and we set off to Meribel. We had a reservation for lunch at 12:30. Astonishingly, we made it more or less in time. By the way, though walking in snow in stiletto heels sounds like a silly idea, and I was mocked, they do give a good grip and are worth considering!

Breaking this now, since it's longer than I expected. Part 3: The Alp and Geneva will come soon. Photos from Chambery follow:

Icicles:


Photo out the window as I woke up on my birthday:


We amused ourselves as best we could:


You can tell it's a shopping centre. A lonely trolleys waits in the freezing sunshine.


The Metal Box when the sun finally came out

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