The Emptiness

I know I’ve been getting all existential of late. But the emptiness is meant to describe the roads in Paris. They were fantastically clear today. Perhaps all the revelry on New Year’s Eve left everyone a bit too groggy.

But the main hazard was the tourists who appear to be unaware of cycle lane etiquette.

I thought the sign for a cycle path was a universal motif. But the amount of people clogging up the way makes me wonder if the sign is different in Italy or Japan.

I particularly like those who decide to take pictures of the Eiffel Tower on the path. That I can understand especially when it starts to glitter and gleam in the evening on the hour mark.

As for the ones who try to get a panoramic snap of the memorial over the road where Diana and Dodi died in 1997, they seem to be oblivious to the cyclists and actually rather keen to join the princess and her chum.

But this is still the season of good will to all men. And that I guess includes tourists on the cycle paths.

The Unity

The marvellous thing about early morning rises is the chance to be abreast of world events and much, much more.

The 3am scream from the boy is nothing new. Neither is the game of musical rooms and beds.

Surprisingly I couldn’t get back to sleep. So from my cushion complex comfort zone on the floor, I listened into BBC World Service.

After a few hours of that I thought it best to start on the day, my birthday.

By the time everyone was up at about 9.15, I had views on the debacle in Pakistan in the wake of the Bhutto assassination and the allegedly rigged polls in Kenya. I’d also absorbed a feature on the ineffectiveness of New Year’s resolutions.

And through surfing the internet I’d managed to find some help on converting tracks from my Itunes library into an MP3 format so they could be transferred onto the MP3 player I’d acquired for my eldest.

I followed the instructions and deposited the 30-odd songs selected by the eight-year old.

What a hip cat.

But as one of the World Service programmes was suggesting the internet and interactivity is changing the rules of modern journalism.

People are blogging. Really?

By the time I’d laid on breakfast for the brood the only thing to do was to retire to bed but then the boy decided to join me and I guess I was back to square one.

The Rethink

I should really be writing this in a cafe in St Germain. But I'm not. I'm in central London.

But the thrust remains the same. I'm looking at the essence of the blog.

Having been allowed to take unpaid leave of absence from my work in London, I'll no longer be travelling between Paris and London on a weekly basis.

I'll be staying in Paris. The reasons for this are quite simple. I'm going to tend the flock while my partner goes to Argentina to work.

The only way to take advantage of a chance like this is for me to take time away. We're not entirely sure when she's going but at least when the moment arrives I'll be prepared.

For a while www. parislondonreturn.blogspot.com won't be an address that accurately portrays the whirligig that I call my life.

Fortunately paul's chateaudeau at least covers me in terms of the Trade Descriptions Act.

And that's important because you need trust. Especially nowadays with social breakdown occurring all around us and our leaders bereft of ideas.

Hang on. The year in review comes in a couple of days. We're still supposed to be full of Christmas cheer.

The Letter

I received a missive today from the Eurostar chief executive, Richard Brown. The idea, it says, is to keep me informed about all the latest developments.

Since the super fast tracks opened, punctuality is at 93.9%. I have to say I don't know if this is better than before since no information is given to me.

So let's assume that 93.9% is better than it ever was. Wow. Good stuff.

There's another part of me which says about time too. Britain joins up with the rest of Europe which has been whirling around in high speed luxury for a while.

The letter then comes onto the thorny subject of the lounge which should have opened a few weeks ago but which has had an array of teething problems as I discovered a few weeks back.

During the reconfiguration we've got an ersatz lounge in the departure hall. This is cordoned off by dark velours curtains and within the domain we've got most of the creature comforts the old lounge at Waterloo had.

I dare say when the St Pancras one is finally revealed to us it will be spectacular. The rest of the station is, if a tad belittling.

Mr Brown says he'll inform us of the opening of the lounge.

I find lots wrong with the new station but I can't fault the PR offensive. It's as slick as the high speed line.

The Kick Inside

Needless to say a semblance of national footballing pride has been restored with Lyon's 3-0 victory at Rangers.

L'Equipe was lyrical on Thursday morning and slapped a picture of Karim Benzema (Lyon's teenage two goal hero) over its front page under the headline: Un pur bonheur.

Well, we all know the similarities between football and sex. And I'm not about to descend into that realm.

The kickabout with Simon on Wednesday night was just what the doctor ordered. In fact just as we left I said it was akin to being really young again. An impromptu game of football with a couple of mates over the common.

As Simon is coming back from six months out with a knee injury, it was a light workout passing the ball with another bloke called Patrick.

To cite one from the array of self-affirming cliches ... restoring confidence ahead of sterner tests ahead.

Simon's wife had an article published in the New York Times today and it seemed linked with the ethos of getting back on the bike.

It's good to know that the state is keen for this kind of re-training. But with the teachers getting ugly and willing to strike over the sizes of classes and working conditions, there's clearly a need to concentrate on what happens before we get round to perpetuating the species.

The Downsize

The advice after falling off a bike is to get back on straight away.

So after the 10-1 thrashing last Saturday morning, the offer to go and play 5-a-side with Simon's team just seems too good. Even if I don't have the appropriate footwear.

After all I don't want to be frightened the next time I go on a pitch for a competitive game. I watched the Marseille v Liverpool slaughter on TV last night.

It was horrible. Horrible. The Marseille boys seemed stricken. Stevie G roused his international Scousers and the rest was slaughter.

Good for them. The main sports paper L'équipe described Marseille's destruction as La Lune dans le caniveau ...the moon in the gutter......I knew this phrase as it was the title of the second film of Jean-Jacques Beineix who shot to fame back in the early 80s with Diva.

During my term at the British Institute in Paris I did a project on Beineix from his time in advertising, via shorts to his feature films.

Le cinéma du look and its flashy abstractions.

Anyway that was long before Beineix was anywhere near Betty Blue and the uberpout that was Béatrice Dalle.

Wednesday's L'équipe has naturally turned it's attention to the Rangers v Lyon match at Ibrox. Lyon need to win to progress to the last 16. Rangers merely need a draw.

I'm going to go and see the second half with Neil over at the usual pub near Chatelet.

That's providing I can literally get on my bike after the 5-a-side kickabout.

The Slaughter

I always get a bad feeling when the opposing team do their warm-up routines across the pitch in a synchronised phalanx.

After all this is supposed to be Saturday morning jollies, not testosterone-fuelled combat.

But when they stripped off their identical tracksuits to reveal their names on their football shirts, the feeling got worse.


When I saw Tito 13, I felt relieved that I was only going to play in the second half.


By the time I spotted Kaiser 9, I was starting to hope that the niggling hamstring might snap me out of having to take part altogether.


I watched from the touchline and it was an even opening 10 mintues. But AS Cheminots scored two quick goals. Even though we pulled one back they increased their advantage soon after and nothing else happened to stem the tide.

I wished that we could have played them three weeks earlier when the cheminots (railway workers) were all on strike and holding the country to ransom.

Perhaps they would have forfeited the game. It seemed that the lay off from actual work had reinvigorated their team and now they were expending their pent up energy on dismantling newly promoted sides.

To use a cliche. We were given a footballing lesson. When I went on in the second-half I started up front but was drafted back into midfield to stem the tide.

But by that time they'd taken their foot off the pedal. It was 9 or 10-1 at the end.

The dressing room was actually quite ebullient after the defeat. Everyone realised that the opposition was just better on all fronts.

The railway workers are planning another round of industrial action starting on December 12. I'm hoping it's going to drag on.

We play AS Cheminots at their place in early January.



The