I have always encouraged my husband to drive for miles, for hours if necessary, on quests for a certain speciality or the place of origin of a recipe. My 15 year old son says I am obsessed but I prefer to think of myself as passionate. He sits beside me laughing now, ‘oh mum’s trying to put a spin on our crazy trips’. I hope one day when he is finally spat out at the other end of adolescence that he will understand – either that or as an adult he will run in horror from the glimpse of any similar outing. I prefer to take the risk of scarring the kids for life against sorties gourmande* if there is even a slight possibility that they will one day have a precious declique themselves. I can concede that my excursions can be fairly batty sorts of affairs and that plenty of people may not understand. But they have come to represent the richest experiences in my french life. Continue reading “Le Gateau de Savoie, a cake and a journey cut in two halves: Part One”
Little girls giggling and running from the school gates at home time singing out Macaron pour president!..again and again, laughing at their play on words. Hearing ten year olds talking of their parents wanting to move abroad if the opponent to Macron should win. Fear has blown in gusts about us for two weeks now, and disbelief at the close proximity of the alternate party. Today my husband spent the day in the garage, anxious, needing to occupy himself rather than think about the election.
Now the country has spoken and we can celebrate and support a man who speaks with positivity and reason. Keeping europe together, rather than ripping people apart.
Emmanuel Macron gives us hope and here in our home we are truly joyful at his election.
Shrugging on coats, we laced up our shoes, scooped up three dog leashes and headed for the door. La meute (the pack) do their absolute best to restrain from barking, to avoid waking up the entire building at 7.30 am on a Saturday morning in Lyon. With little ‘shhh’ reminders, I can see the effort they are making to stay calm, so eager to please us but fizzing with excitement for a morning walk. I am blissfully in love with this city, a passion that has spanned unrelenting for more than two decades and I am ethereal as I float down the staircase to the front door. Hauling open the huge carved wooden door we are slapped by the sounds of the city. Already very much awake even for a weekend, we find cyclists pedal along furiously, traffic signals interchange and street cleaners open water valves and spray arcs of water out onto the street. Continue reading “Marché quai St Antoine – Célestins”