five hundred and twenty five thousand and six hundred minutes

May

The Cow Parade came to town, I started blogging and I met Shameless, Minx, Marie, Debi and Skint for the first time.

June

I completely fucked up booking my ticket to Bali and decided that this was my favourite Eiffel Tower pic. Funny that’s not the one that’s printed and put on my wall.

July

I found a new flat, got attacked by moths, washing powder and various other things. France got to the final of the World Cup and lost (I didn't post about that) and I tootled off on holiday.

August

I returned from holiday with fantastic toes and discovered as I moved that I had a lot of STUFF.

September

I reminisced about KECAK.

October

I fell in love with Julian Barnes and was cruelly silenced.

November

I remained cruelly silenced as my modem lights continued to NOT blink, my phone continued to NOT have a dial tone and France Telecom tried to lead me to an early grave.

December

The Fifty Word Challenge was issued. Glad it wasn't a competition because I still can't decide on my favourite

January

I came 4th in The Clarity of Night's Silent Grey short fiction competition. How many times did I mention that one?

February

I went to Berlin and fell in love with this little guy below. And THIS post is the one that draws more new visitors to my site than any other. I won't write the title again because frankly I'm in shock at the amount of people searching for this and I don't want to repeat the incident again!

March

Matt at Turbo Art interpreted me and that little Minx in Cornwall outed me. Bloody cheesy photo.

April

I went to Lyon and saw Shameless's play (well the one he did the music for) and Tacky Rover where I belly danced (not) and got mad at tourists and Sego and Sarko got through to 2nd round of the presidential elections (see below)^.

May 1^st

122 posts later A Wanderer in Paris celebrates one year today.

In the past year I’ve made some bloggy mates, learnt not to do the horrendously long posts I did at the beginning, written poetry again (I’m not saying it’s any good, but I’m gonna keep on doing it), written loads and seem to have cut down on swearing in the blog posts (so I thought I'd catch up today!). It’s been great. Hope to carry on seeing you guys

Happy ONEIVERSARY to me!

Play Days

I have very clear memories of me as a three year old sitting cross-legged in the front row. I can’t remember what was said to me or if I even understood - at that stage I was still this weird little French speaking kid – but I knew that something special was happening, that everyone was excited, that we were being given a treat. It was a Punch and Judy show. Apparently in 1947 Middlesex County Council had this to say about the shows: "No more Punch and Judy shows at school treats! The Punch show is brutal and totally unfit for the innocent eyes and ears of children". I have very little recollection of what happened after that. I was sprayed with water, it was incredibly loud, it was violent, I hated it and I’ve hated Punch and Judy shows ever since. So I was none too pleased when the Queeb I was travelling with felt that as we were experiencing all things ‘Lyonnais’ that we should go to a Guignol show.

Ok I knew that Guignol was not Punch, but he did have a stick in his hand. And ‘Gnafron’, Guignol’s best friend, had a bit of a hooked nose. Although there is a hazy link between Punch and Guignol via a shady Italian character called Pulcinella who dates back to the 16th Century, Laurent Mourguet based his cloth hand puppet on his pal who cried out: “C’est guignolant,” whenever he liked the puppets, hence the name Guignol.

I tried to distract the Queeb by getting our magic horoscope from the machine outside the shop where Guignol tickets were advertised, but there was nothing I could do to put her off; we had to go. So, we had some lunch, we took the Funicular up to Fourvière. I wondered: is it a particularly French thing to stick a hideous building on top of a hill? The Basilica Notre-Dame de Fourvière is an amazing variety of architectural styles that just ends up looking ridiculous. And then if the outside wasn’t bad enough you then push open those great big heavy doors and OH MY GOD; someone went a little wild with the gold in there. We had to wander around very slowly and see it from every possible angle just to see if it had any redeeming features. Nope, there weren’t even any gargoyles, just pastiche.

Then we had to go and see the Gallo-Romano Amphitheatre. That was pretty cool. We had one arrow pointing left another pointing right so went straight ahead and there it was. We bumbled around; me exploring all the different nooks and crannies (I like doing that sort of thing) and then the Queeb pointed out the time, almost time for the Puppet show.

Now I’m beginning to realise that I have a fair few phobias. Where most people seem to make do with one or two I seem to be collecting them as time goes on, so really it’s time to face some of them down. No? We paid for our tickets, were shown to our seats and I settled down; kind of. I never took my coat off, you know just in case I had to get up and run out. And eventually the play started…

M. Poivert came out and introduced us to the beautiful streets of Lyon. “It’s much nicer than those horrid polluted streets of Paris. N’est pas Queeb and Miss V?” Hey! I sat up. Then he started going on about Marseille probably being more polluted, but Lyon had the nicest boys and maybe Queeb and Miss V would find nice men here in Lyon! The story turned out quite sweet, Guignol’s childhood sweetheart Madelon was back in town as was a thief who liked bright shiny gold. I learnt that in Lyon kids are called ‘gones’ and at the end when we were invited to do a backstage tour, the puppeteer waxed lyrical about Lyon while on his left hand Guignol was as animated as ever.

So I guess in the end it wasn’t so bad, it might even be considered a highlight, what with my name being dropped right at the beginning of the play and all. The puppets were kind of cute, the theatre was nice in a kitschy puppet kind of way, and I loved the café across the street.

I have added the label photos and I will post photos when I get home, but meanwhile I'm just kind of floating about thinking I should be working, but I'd kind of like to post about Lyon some more!

The Unedited Highlights: A Verilion in Lyon

So here’s the deal. I had a great weekend in Lyon. I faced childhood fears head on, I hunted for lions, I traipsed through many a hidden secret passage. I loved things, I liked things and some things just made me perturbed. I would recommend that you all go visit and there’s no excuse because it’s only two hours away from Paris (if you live in Paris). But... as usual ... faced with the prospect of writing reports or just writing last week I ... eh ... somehow did both. And then my head exploded in those two hours there and those two hours back from Lyon, so I have to scribble it down NOW, tonight, before the week takes over. So here are some completely unedited highlights. More to come soon...

Mmm those six days of emptiness are rapidly filling up, what with catching up with posts, emptying cupboards, cleaning flat, clearing stuff out, waxing, packing...