Summer is here and it is extremely hot and humid. I don’t do too well in such heat and need to be careful about getting dehydrated.
The weather was similar when we arrived last year and we eventually dropped into a sensible French routine of being busy first thing in the morning and then rest until the evening.
To begin with, we couldn’t understand why everything was closed for most of the afternoon and why all the council-run summer festivities didn’t seem to start until after our bed-time.
Brochures advertising the summer entertainment programme have just been released and there are, again, all sorts of events around the city in the open air.
All the events are free and, although a few start at 6.30 or 7pm, most start about 10pm when the evening temperature is nice and cool.
So we now have a busy timetable of music, street theatre, circus performances and open-air cinema to fit in before we return. And lots of lunches too.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Mirrors of time
After a slightly extended term (due to strikes and occupations), the universities in France are slowly closing down for the summer. Although a few students still have exams, many of the admin staff are already working on ‘summer time’.
My partner sat her last exam yesterday, writing a 4 hour essay on technical and social aspects of maritime history from 1500 to 1900 – in French of course.
We are now left with seven weeks before we return to the UK. This mirrors perfectly the time we had at the beginning of our year before Becky started her first course – an intensive French class – last September.
Our first seven weeks were a busy time of setting up bank accounts, getting a TV, telephone and broadband package, sorting out health cover and getting to know the local area.
In our final seven weeks, we will need to cancel these arrangements and start contacting utility companies in the UK. I will need to ensure a seamless transfer of my health care back to the National Health Service (I’m sure there will be further posts about this).
We are also planning trips and outings to do some of the things that we haven’t managed to do yet – like a evening visit to Mont-St-Michel and a guided tour of the D-Day beaches.
Most of all, we need to slowly say goodbye to our home for a year – visiting our favourite cafés and restaurants and absorbing as much of the atmosphere as we can.
For some time we have been thinking and talking about taking back some of the things we have learned about ourselves during this year.
We both feel we have changed and some of our excitement about going back to the UK is to see how much more we can get out of life there.
My partner sat her last exam yesterday, writing a 4 hour essay on technical and social aspects of maritime history from 1500 to 1900 – in French of course.
We are now left with seven weeks before we return to the UK. This mirrors perfectly the time we had at the beginning of our year before Becky started her first course – an intensive French class – last September.
Our first seven weeks were a busy time of setting up bank accounts, getting a TV, telephone and broadband package, sorting out health cover and getting to know the local area.
In our final seven weeks, we will need to cancel these arrangements and start contacting utility companies in the UK. I will need to ensure a seamless transfer of my health care back to the National Health Service (I’m sure there will be further posts about this).
We are also planning trips and outings to do some of the things that we haven’t managed to do yet – like a evening visit to Mont-St-Michel and a guided tour of the D-Day beaches.
Most of all, we need to slowly say goodbye to our home for a year – visiting our favourite cafés and restaurants and absorbing as much of the atmosphere as we can.
For some time we have been thinking and talking about taking back some of the things we have learned about ourselves during this year.
We both feel we have changed and some of our excitement about going back to the UK is to see how much more we can get out of life there.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
The Hare and the Tortoise
Something I have wanted to do since I was a boy is to go to the Le Mans 24 hour motor race. Last weekend I did just that – after all, the circuit is less than 100 miles away from Caen.
The 24 heures du Mans is one of the iconic sporting events. This year saw the 77th running of the event, which is – as the name suggests – a race run over 24 hours, from 3pm Saturday until 3pm Sunday.
More often than not, the Le Mans race is ample proof that Aesop’s tale of the hare and the tortoise is correct. Winning a race over 24 hours is a complex combination of not going too fast, careful strategy and luck.
I loved this quirky lesson about life long before I got ill with Crohn’s disease, but Le Mans has continued to fascinate me and always will be my highlight of the sporting year.
My life is divided up into small challenges, bigger challenges and absolutely gigantic challenges, and my trip to Le Mans definitely falls into the later category. My weekend was planned like a (well-planned) military campaign – completely timetabled, essentials packed for all eventualities and eating only jelly-sweets and drinking only water and energy drinks.
Whilst most other people were getting drunk or getting indigestion, my concentration was fixed on the race. I stayed up all night, took a trip into the forest to see the cars up close and I had an absolutely superb time.
I think it has been being ill that has encouraged me to grasp opportunities and do things I dream of doing. Coming to live in France has been one of those things. Going to Le Mans is another – I am delighted I was brave enough to go.
The 24 heures du Mans is one of the iconic sporting events. This year saw the 77th running of the event, which is – as the name suggests – a race run over 24 hours, from 3pm Saturday until 3pm Sunday.
More often than not, the Le Mans race is ample proof that Aesop’s tale of the hare and the tortoise is correct. Winning a race over 24 hours is a complex combination of not going too fast, careful strategy and luck.
I loved this quirky lesson about life long before I got ill with Crohn’s disease, but Le Mans has continued to fascinate me and always will be my highlight of the sporting year.
My life is divided up into small challenges, bigger challenges and absolutely gigantic challenges, and my trip to Le Mans definitely falls into the later category. My weekend was planned like a (well-planned) military campaign – completely timetabled, essentials packed for all eventualities and eating only jelly-sweets and drinking only water and energy drinks.
Whilst most other people were getting drunk or getting indigestion, my concentration was fixed on the race. I stayed up all night, took a trip into the forest to see the cars up close and I had an absolutely superb time.
I think it has been being ill that has encouraged me to grasp opportunities and do things I dream of doing. Coming to live in France has been one of those things. Going to Le Mans is another – I am delighted I was brave enough to go.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
D-Day and the British media
Living in France, we watch the French TV news and read French newspapers. We need to know what’s going on and what people are talking about.
Of course, we do keep an eye on the UK media headlines, but what is going on across the Channel is a little distant.
Something I did expect, but am still surprised about is the difference of emphasis between the media of the two countries. Even big international events like the US presidential election are covered in a different way.
Over the past month, the European parliamentary elections have been big news in France. There have been debates on prime-time TV, lots of coverage on the evening news programmes and in the newspapers, as well as public meetings in our town attended by hundreds of people.
It has been difficult to find very much coverage at all in the UK media and most of it has appeared to be anti-European.
Perhaps this British anti-European sentiment is easier to pick up when you’re on mainland Europe. One story that has been quite bizarre is the fuss around D-Day.
This weekend there are huge celebrations across Basse-Normandie, remembering those allied soldiers, sailors and airmen who were willing to give their lives to liberate Europe from Nazi tyranny.
In every town and village in the region, local councils, veterans groups representing all the allied servicemen and the various governments have organised and supported these commemorations.
All week the regional media has been full of soldiers’ stories and information about the events this weekend. Last night there was a stunning co-ordinated firework display that stretched all along the D-Day beaches.
Today, live footage of the official events has been on national TV from 9 o’clock this morning and will continue until this evening. Films and documentaries about D-Day and the battle for Normandy have been on numerous TV stations for several weeks too.
Yet the UK media is focusing on the claim that France has chosen to ignore the sacrifices made by British soldiers in 1944 and have deliberately insulted the memory of these soldiers by not inviting the Queen to Normandy.
I understand that anti-French rhetoric is always good for a few votes or to sell a few newspapers, but this is utterly ridiculous and I have found it quite revolting.
For their part, I think the French have handled this ‘crisis’ very well. They could have pointed out to the world that it was the British head of state who had chosen not to attend the commemorations (‘we’ don't do the anniversaries with a 5 in them, apparently) and clearly the Queen had already arranged her day-trip to the Epsom Derby.
Instead the French government continued organising a very moving commemoration, letting the British media continue to froth and foam at the mouth, and asked again, through diplomatic channels, if the UK would accept an invitation if issued formally. This time the answer was ‘yes’ and an official invitation was sent. End of crisis.
Of course, we do keep an eye on the UK media headlines, but what is going on across the Channel is a little distant.
Something I did expect, but am still surprised about is the difference of emphasis between the media of the two countries. Even big international events like the US presidential election are covered in a different way.
Over the past month, the European parliamentary elections have been big news in France. There have been debates on prime-time TV, lots of coverage on the evening news programmes and in the newspapers, as well as public meetings in our town attended by hundreds of people.
It has been difficult to find very much coverage at all in the UK media and most of it has appeared to be anti-European.
Perhaps this British anti-European sentiment is easier to pick up when you’re on mainland Europe. One story that has been quite bizarre is the fuss around D-Day.
This weekend there are huge celebrations across Basse-Normandie, remembering those allied soldiers, sailors and airmen who were willing to give their lives to liberate Europe from Nazi tyranny.
In every town and village in the region, local councils, veterans groups representing all the allied servicemen and the various governments have organised and supported these commemorations.
All week the regional media has been full of soldiers’ stories and information about the events this weekend. Last night there was a stunning co-ordinated firework display that stretched all along the D-Day beaches.
Today, live footage of the official events has been on national TV from 9 o’clock this morning and will continue until this evening. Films and documentaries about D-Day and the battle for Normandy have been on numerous TV stations for several weeks too.
Yet the UK media is focusing on the claim that France has chosen to ignore the sacrifices made by British soldiers in 1944 and have deliberately insulted the memory of these soldiers by not inviting the Queen to Normandy.
I understand that anti-French rhetoric is always good for a few votes or to sell a few newspapers, but this is utterly ridiculous and I have found it quite revolting.
For their part, I think the French have handled this ‘crisis’ very well. They could have pointed out to the world that it was the British head of state who had chosen not to attend the commemorations (‘we’ don't do the anniversaries with a 5 in them, apparently) and clearly the Queen had already arranged her day-trip to the Epsom Derby.
Instead the French government continued organising a very moving commemoration, letting the British media continue to froth and foam at the mouth, and asked again, through diplomatic channels, if the UK would accept an invitation if issued formally. This time the answer was ‘yes’ and an official invitation was sent. End of crisis.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
"Gutted"
I feel miserable. The local football team, SM Caen, just got relegated to the second division.
Tonight was the last game of the season and Caen lost 1-0 to Bordeaux, who – as a result of their win – lifted the league title. To make it an even more complex night, the goal was scored by a former Caen hero who joined Bordeaux last summer.
I didn’t manage to get a seat for the match – there were huge queues for tickets on Monday and touts made a lot of money from Bordeaux fans. With the match sold out, the city council put on a big screen in the town centre.
Like a lot of local people, I’m gutted by tonight’s result - I’ve been to see a lot of matches this season and I’ve had a soft spot for the team for a long time, ever since one of my favourite players got a transfer here in the late 80s.
Despite feeling miserable by a disappointing season and tonight’s relegation, I can’t claim to ‘feel’ it quite like real fans. I realised this at a match in November when Caen lost to huge local rivals Le Havre. The manner of the defeat – a late goal, totally against the run of play – added to the bitterness of the result.
Supporters around me were stunned, speechless and unable to move. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel as crushed as these people looked (although I knew how it felt), so I headed for the exit.
This action felt a little like a betrayal. But there was nothing I could have done. Had I stuck around and claimed to feel as bad as the others did, I would have been faking it.
Partly because of that match and partly because my health was poor over the winter (and it was freezing out on a Saturday night), I didn’t go to many more games. When I got back in the spring the confidence of the team and the fans that was so apparent earlier in the season had evaporated.
I will continue to follow Caen – they will always be ‘my team’ in France. I might even get to see their first game in Ligue 2 before I return to Brighton. And we will all be confident about the new season and getting promoted back to the top division.
Life is full of disappointments, but the true football fan is always an optimist – at least at the start of a season.
Tonight was the last game of the season and Caen lost 1-0 to Bordeaux, who – as a result of their win – lifted the league title. To make it an even more complex night, the goal was scored by a former Caen hero who joined Bordeaux last summer.
I didn’t manage to get a seat for the match – there were huge queues for tickets on Monday and touts made a lot of money from Bordeaux fans. With the match sold out, the city council put on a big screen in the town centre.
Like a lot of local people, I’m gutted by tonight’s result - I’ve been to see a lot of matches this season and I’ve had a soft spot for the team for a long time, ever since one of my favourite players got a transfer here in the late 80s.
Despite feeling miserable by a disappointing season and tonight’s relegation, I can’t claim to ‘feel’ it quite like real fans. I realised this at a match in November when Caen lost to huge local rivals Le Havre. The manner of the defeat – a late goal, totally against the run of play – added to the bitterness of the result.
Supporters around me were stunned, speechless and unable to move. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel as crushed as these people looked (although I knew how it felt), so I headed for the exit.
This action felt a little like a betrayal. But there was nothing I could have done. Had I stuck around and claimed to feel as bad as the others did, I would have been faking it.
Partly because of that match and partly because my health was poor over the winter (and it was freezing out on a Saturday night), I didn’t go to many more games. When I got back in the spring the confidence of the team and the fans that was so apparent earlier in the season had evaporated.
I will continue to follow Caen – they will always be ‘my team’ in France. I might even get to see their first game in Ligue 2 before I return to Brighton. And we will all be confident about the new season and getting promoted back to the top division.
Life is full of disappointments, but the true football fan is always an optimist – at least at the start of a season.
Monday, 18 May 2009
La grippe porcine
Watching the swine ‘flu drama unfold is not a pleasant experience for me. Especially living overseas.
I know that this strain of ‘flu is milder than the usual seasonal ‘flu that is passed around every winter, so I get irritated that healthy people in wealthy countries are panicking about dying but fail to follow the simple hygiene procedures that could protect those most at risk.
Everyone who has died from swine ‘flu in Europe has been suffering from a serious long-term health condition.
Although Crohn’s disease could be included in this category, the advice from the UK Crohn’s and Colitis charity, NACC, is that people with Crohn’s who are taking immuno-suppressive medication should not have an increased risk of contracting swine ‘flu.
The NACC statement goes on to say that, if symptoms develop, people with Crohn’s should go through the same process as everyone else and that treatment with the anti-viral drug Tamiflu should not be problematic.
Every autumn, I have ‘flu vaccination as I am considered ‘at risk’ if I catch the normal seasonal ‘flu. That is because I have a long-term health condition and I am taking immuno-suppressive medication. I guess that I am more likely to catch the disease and less able to fight it.
I am working on the same assumption will swine ‘flu. So I am still a little anxious.
And that anxiety is raised by living overseas and still not quite understanding the way the health system works. However, the advice here seems the same and the public information seem clearer than in the UK.
If I get symptoms, I will phone my GP and do what he says. I will also rest, stay well-hydrated and eat normally. However, I am hoping that I will escape the virus until I get back to the UK in mid-August. By then there may be a vaccine ready.
In the meantime, I will carry on with life as usual. I always wash my hands when I get home and before I eat. I carry an alcohol handwash with me when I am out too. And I have developed over the years an instinctive response to avoid people who look like they are about to sneeze or cough in my direction.
Of course, if this does become a full-blown pandemic I may stay indoors for a while – especially if the virus seems to become more virulent and the disease more serious.
I know that this strain of ‘flu is milder than the usual seasonal ‘flu that is passed around every winter, so I get irritated that healthy people in wealthy countries are panicking about dying but fail to follow the simple hygiene procedures that could protect those most at risk.
Everyone who has died from swine ‘flu in Europe has been suffering from a serious long-term health condition.
Although Crohn’s disease could be included in this category, the advice from the UK Crohn’s and Colitis charity, NACC, is that people with Crohn’s who are taking immuno-suppressive medication should not have an increased risk of contracting swine ‘flu.
The NACC statement goes on to say that, if symptoms develop, people with Crohn’s should go through the same process as everyone else and that treatment with the anti-viral drug Tamiflu should not be problematic.
Every autumn, I have ‘flu vaccination as I am considered ‘at risk’ if I catch the normal seasonal ‘flu. That is because I have a long-term health condition and I am taking immuno-suppressive medication. I guess that I am more likely to catch the disease and less able to fight it.
I am working on the same assumption will swine ‘flu. So I am still a little anxious.
And that anxiety is raised by living overseas and still not quite understanding the way the health system works. However, the advice here seems the same and the public information seem clearer than in the UK.
If I get symptoms, I will phone my GP and do what he says. I will also rest, stay well-hydrated and eat normally. However, I am hoping that I will escape the virus until I get back to the UK in mid-August. By then there may be a vaccine ready.
In the meantime, I will carry on with life as usual. I always wash my hands when I get home and before I eat. I carry an alcohol handwash with me when I am out too. And I have developed over the years an instinctive response to avoid people who look like they are about to sneeze or cough in my direction.
Of course, if this does become a full-blown pandemic I may stay indoors for a while – especially if the virus seems to become more virulent and the disease more serious.
Friday, 8 May 2009
The final stretch
My trip back to Brighton was a good one. It helped that the reason for going back was the marriage of two friends – a happy and fun event.
As I travelled across West Sussex from the ferry port to Brighton I did feel a bit of culture shock. I understood everything that people said and everything looked familiar, but not recent. In other words it was familiar as a place I used to live, but not quite home.
Like in November, as I came off the ferry and caught the bus into Caen, it felt like I was coming home.
Brighton is always very attractive in May and I think I am looking forward to returning – but not yet. I want to make the most of my time in France - especially as I feel like we are on the final stretch.
There are trips we want to go on and still places in Caen to visit. I have always wanted to go to the Le Mans 24 hour race and this is my best chance – the circuit is only 100 miles away, an hour by train.
I bought my ticket for the Le Mans just before my trip back to Brighton, so I am definitely going. I just need to work out the logistics of how I am going to enjoy the experience and not let my Crohn’s get in the way.
The whole of this year is testament to how it is possible to follow dreams, despite the impact of a long-term health condition. Before I came I knew, in theory, I should be able to enjoy the year – but I am growing in confidence the more this is proving to be true.
As I travelled across West Sussex from the ferry port to Brighton I did feel a bit of culture shock. I understood everything that people said and everything looked familiar, but not recent. In other words it was familiar as a place I used to live, but not quite home.
Like in November, as I came off the ferry and caught the bus into Caen, it felt like I was coming home.
Brighton is always very attractive in May and I think I am looking forward to returning – but not yet. I want to make the most of my time in France - especially as I feel like we are on the final stretch.
There are trips we want to go on and still places in Caen to visit. I have always wanted to go to the Le Mans 24 hour race and this is my best chance – the circuit is only 100 miles away, an hour by train.
I bought my ticket for the Le Mans just before my trip back to Brighton, so I am definitely going. I just need to work out the logistics of how I am going to enjoy the experience and not let my Crohn’s get in the way.
The whole of this year is testament to how it is possible to follow dreams, despite the impact of a long-term health condition. Before I came I knew, in theory, I should be able to enjoy the year – but I am growing in confidence the more this is proving to be true.
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