I had half expected to be fighting a non-stop battle with colds this year.
I’m not sure if the viruses are any different here than in the UK, but a combination of my immuno-suppressive medication and the low-level stress of living in a different environment was always going to give the little blighters an advantage.
And I do seem to have had a succession of colds since the end of last summer, more than I usually get in the UK. What is typical – especially since I started on Remicade – is that I feel full of aches, with a blocked nose and sinuses and a lingering headache.
I also feel wiped out and exhausted, so it’s not always apparent if it is my Crohn’s playing up as well. Sometimes all this seems to trigger my guts to go haywire in any case.
It’s all rather annoying and frustrating as these colds interfere with me enjoying life in France almost as much as my Crohn’s does. And so it is good to have moan and feel sorry for myself from time to time.
Our French friends and acquaintances have all been very concerned about the ups and downs of my health, all of which has been very genuine and comforting. In the UK, I feel that talk about health problems creates distance between people rather than bringing them closer together – unless the problem is shared, of course.
I think I can support the theory that it takes much longer to get to know people in France than in the UK, but, unlike in the UK, conversations about health problems arrive very early in this process.
Bowels are a particularly common topic of conversation if the opportunity arises. Maybe this is something to do with the importance of food and drink in French life and culture?
Yet toilets are notoriously filthy (although much less than 20 years ago) and often unisex, with urinals next to the shared hand basin. It is still always a good idea to carry toilet roll or tissues too.
Although these differences freaked me out a little when we arrived, they are just normal now. Somehow, avoiding all mention of bowels and going to pristine toilets with piped music and automatic air-freshener seems weird.
Will I be able to re-adjust? Will I be seeking out the most filthy, smelly and overflowing public toilets in Brighton? I suspect the problem will be finding any at all.
As I have said before, I am a little anxious about going back to the UK and the swine-‘flu pandemic – there are still only 400 cases in France, mainly people who have had holidays in Mexico, America and Britain.
I know what to do – get registered with a GP as soon as I get off the ferry and take all the precautions I always do – but I cannot feel 100% relaxed about it all. Especially as I seem to pick up every bug within a 100 km radius.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Le Grand Départ
This is a big weekend in France, with the start of the summer holidays and the start of the Tour de France bicycle race. Both are called the Grand Départ.
As I’ve mentioned, we are staying here in Normandy for our holidays. Temperatures remain reasonably cool here during the summer which is just right for me. Friends on holiday in the south are telling us it is too hot there – nearly forty degrees centigrade last week.
Unfortunately the Tour doesn’t pass through the west of France this year. After going to the Le Mans 24 hour race, I would have liked to catch one of my other highlights of the sporting year.
However, like last year, it will be a treat to watch as many stages as I want, live on TV. Most of the action is in the mid to late afternoon when I am trying to stay cool and resting at home.
I tried to claim that the 24 hours race at Le Mans was some sort of sporting metaphor that could help those of us with a long term illness. I’m not sure if I can make a similar claim for the Tour.
The race itself is quite brutal. The competitors put themselves through three weeks’ of physical torture that would kill the vast majority of people. The overall winner has to rely on selfless teamwork, perfect strategy, high-level psychological warfare plus amazing fitness and cycling talent.
Professional cyclists stand out from the rest of humanity by their extreme physique and their extreme single-mindedness. Everything is focused on winning and the high intensity training damages professional cyclists’ immune systems – so they are more susceptible to coughs, colds and viral infections.
Of course, focussing on winning means that there is an ongoing battle between the sport’s officials and those riders who use artificial methods to get an edge over their rivals. Drug scandals are so numerous in the Tour’s recent history that it is no longer a surprise when an amazing performance on a stage is found to be drug-fuelled.
I’m not saying there are any similarities here with the average person with Crohn’s disease (particular the performance-enhancing drug aspect), but I have been fascinated by the Tour de France ever since I came across it in my teens.
I could claim that cycling is truly a noble sport and shows us what we can achieve if we really set our minds to it. However, despite being a really enthralling and, at times, incredibly exciting three weeks, I think what it does show us is that being obsessed with physical perfection doesn’t actually make you a very nice person.
So, I will continue to follow cycling (see picture below from the Tour of Normandie earlier this year) rather than being tempted to get on a bike myself. I don’t think my body would ever forgive me – a leisurely walk or a dip in the pool is about as much as I can get away with.
As I’ve mentioned, we are staying here in Normandy for our holidays. Temperatures remain reasonably cool here during the summer which is just right for me. Friends on holiday in the south are telling us it is too hot there – nearly forty degrees centigrade last week.
Unfortunately the Tour doesn’t pass through the west of France this year. After going to the Le Mans 24 hour race, I would have liked to catch one of my other highlights of the sporting year.
However, like last year, it will be a treat to watch as many stages as I want, live on TV. Most of the action is in the mid to late afternoon when I am trying to stay cool and resting at home.
I tried to claim that the 24 hours race at Le Mans was some sort of sporting metaphor that could help those of us with a long term illness. I’m not sure if I can make a similar claim for the Tour.
The race itself is quite brutal. The competitors put themselves through three weeks’ of physical torture that would kill the vast majority of people. The overall winner has to rely on selfless teamwork, perfect strategy, high-level psychological warfare plus amazing fitness and cycling talent.
Professional cyclists stand out from the rest of humanity by their extreme physique and their extreme single-mindedness. Everything is focused on winning and the high intensity training damages professional cyclists’ immune systems – so they are more susceptible to coughs, colds and viral infections.
Of course, focussing on winning means that there is an ongoing battle between the sport’s officials and those riders who use artificial methods to get an edge over their rivals. Drug scandals are so numerous in the Tour’s recent history that it is no longer a surprise when an amazing performance on a stage is found to be drug-fuelled.
I’m not saying there are any similarities here with the average person with Crohn’s disease (particular the performance-enhancing drug aspect), but I have been fascinated by the Tour de France ever since I came across it in my teens.
I could claim that cycling is truly a noble sport and shows us what we can achieve if we really set our minds to it. However, despite being a really enthralling and, at times, incredibly exciting three weeks, I think what it does show us is that being obsessed with physical perfection doesn’t actually make you a very nice person.
So, I will continue to follow cycling (see picture below from the Tour of Normandie earlier this year) rather than being tempted to get on a bike myself. I don’t think my body would ever forgive me – a leisurely walk or a dip in the pool is about as much as I can get away with.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Summer programme
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.
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.
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.
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