Aude has been in Paris on a training course for the past four days, so I decided to use this weekend to get some of the errands run. Our stocks of wine are running low, so I decided it was time for a quick run over to Calais to replenish our supplies. Thinking that I had plenty of time, I decided to take the ferry rather than the train to save a few quid – a mistake in the end.

The famous white cliffs of Dover…

I went over with Seafrance, who have much nicer ferries than either of the other companies. But I picked a rough day with a very choppy crossing, and a fair number of the passengers spent most of their time throwing up. I’m fairly immune to sea-sickness, but there’s something inherently unpleasant about being surrounded by people being sick.

The Wine Society’s shop in Montreuil, or ‘Mecca’ as we prefer to call it…

First stop in France was at the Wine Society. I’d preselected my wines on the ferry, and handed over my completed order form. Ten minutes later and a few hundred euros lighter, the friendly lads at the Wine Society had loaded my car and I was on my way back to Calais to do some food shopping. And aggravating quite a few French drivers at each of the tolls, as I had to get out and run around the car to fetch my tickets (as my steering wheel is on the wrong side and I’ve got no passenger to reach out for me.

The car is riding a little lower on its suspension, its boot full of wine!

From Montreuil, it was back to Calais to stock up on all the foods that we can’t get in the UK – veal, good coffee, chicory, cured meats, cheeses, and so on. Several hundred more euros later, and the boot was full to bursting.

Off to Carrefour for a little grocery shopping…

Finally back on the ferry, the rear end of the car scraped over every speed bump I crossed. Next time I’ll rent a van!

The car fully laden, I managed to scrape the rear end going over the speed bumps getting onto the ferry…

The return ferry was much more uneventful than the outbound crossing. I had a nice dinner on the onboard restaurant, surrounded for some reason by loads of Australians. One of whom did her country’s reputation no favours by ordering a steak, well done, and then asking the French waiter if she could have some ketchup to go with it.

And I thought it was only the Americans who were renowned for these sorts of social gaffes.

We’re safely back from Belgium, where we celebrated a French-style new year with Marjory and her friends at their place outside Brussels. Aude had a great time, and I spent most of the trip telling everyone that “J’ai un rhume” and that I was avoiding “faire les bises” so as not to spread my germs. It was international diplomacy at its finest.

Marjory and her friends made a superb dinner that left us all stuffed afterwards. We started foie gras and champagne, then moved on to a starter of tabbouleh with fresh grapefruit and prawns, followed by a salade Perigourdine, then filet mignon in a Roquefort sauce, with cheese and dessert afterwards. It was dinner as only the French can do – plenty of good food to satisfy the senses, plenty of over-indulgence to make sure you don’t do it too often.

As midnight approached, we opened more champagne and the party really started. There was dancing… and music… and bed! At least, there was for me – I realise that the French like to party late into the night, but by about 1:30 my bed was calling me. Two cold tablets and I was out for the count!

The following morning we were treated to a guided tour of Brussels – and I use the word “guided” loosely. Marjory was nominally our guide, but we could have been visiting Moscow for all she knows about the city. My GPS let me down and we got an even more detailed tour of town on the way back to the Chunnel, but we made it in the end, despite technology’s best efforts to send me in the wrong direction.

Forget your store-bought foie gras. This came from Laure’s grandmother. Well, not actually from her grandmother — more like from her grandmother’s ducks.

The chefs, hard at work in the kitchen…

Cinderella is sent to do the tidying-up by her evil stepsisters….

…but she emerges minutes later, transformed into a princess.

The girls pose for a photo…

Another photo of the girls (this time Aude’s managed to jump into the frame as well)

These days, everyone wants to offer instant feedback on the photographer’s efforts!

Salade Perigourdine, made with Laure’s grandmother’s ducks…

The New Years Eve table, set for dinner

Champagne and a roaring fire — what else do you need for a good night in?

The whole gang poses for a photo…

Someone misses that they’ve moved at the last minute and not been included in the group photo. (Actually, he features prominently as the blur in the background!)

Marjory gets into the party spirit…

Laure can’t resist joining into the festitivies herself!

Next thing you know, everyone’s dancing…

Not everyone… Some of us know well enough that the safest place to be when dancing breaks out is a little way away, with a glass of champagne in our hands!

It’s midnight, and Marjory pops open the fizz…

Audrey strutts her stuff on the dancefloor!

Marjo pulls a move…

Aude joins in, thinking it’s Disco Fever…

Julie gives a pointer or two to the dancers…

Frank looks on in amazement

Once the beat has you, you just can’t stop…

Despite the best efforts of the freezing fog and the bunglings of British Airways, we managed to make it to the Cote d’Azur without too much trouble. We arrived at the airport about two hours before our flight and were herded into large white tents outside to wait until our flight was called to check-in. About half an hour later, we finally made it into the ticketing hall, which was absolutely swamped with people. Between check-in and security, we arrived at the lounge with just enough time for a quick cup of coffee before our flight.

We arrived in Nice to much nicer weather than we’d left at home – warm with clear, sunny skies. Luckily, it stayed this way for the remainder of our trip. We arrived around lunchtime on Christmas Eve and spent the next 48 hours straight eating.

Aude and her parents on Christmas Eve

Aude smiles for the camera

Aude’s father gets the champagne ready to toast the celebration

Minouche (alive, well, and only a little overweight) practices her hunting skills with her new toy mice

“Open your oysters risk-free!” proclaims this clever device. Please notice the blood splattered all over the side.

Oysters to celebrate Christmas. As Gratiane said in her e-mail letter earlier this week, at this time of year the words “oysters”, “salmon”, and “foie gras” trigger a reflex movement to unbutton the first button on our trousers!

Minouche is very interested in the ornaments.

Aude’s mother shows off her desserts…

Aude’s parents’ house, looking warm and inviting in the sun

Rather a radical change for those of us from cooler places, this is what Christmas looks like in the south of France. Not a flake of snow in sight!

Aude smiles as she remembers what “sun” is…

Even Matthew manages a smile…

All becomes clear. Matthew is smiling because it’s time for more champagne!

Mandatory “couple” shot for my parents.

Aude’s father gets ready to carve the Christmas capon. Poor bastard – first he loses his balls, then ends up on our Christmas table. What a way to go. (NB: I’m talking about the capon, not Aude’s father)

Everyone’s down for a nap after dinner…

An absolutely beautiful evening looking out over the Mediterranean.

48 hours later, I’m back on the Eurostar again after a grey, cold weekend in Paris. Despite the weather, we had a great time and caught up with some old friends.

I arrived late on Friday night and managed to convince the ticket machine at the Metro to sell me a ticket. French machines, being French, refuse to speak in Foreign, so I was left relying on my schoolboy French to get me across town. That wasn’t a problem, but trying to work out where to stick my money into the machine was – the machine was designed to take coins or credit cards, but not Euro notes – unlike the ticket machines on the Tube. So there I was, stupid tourist, trying to stick notes into a machine that clearly didn’t take them, much to the annoyance of the French.

Having finally convinced the ticket machine to take my credit card, I met Aude and her friend Anne Laure at Bastille for a few drinks. We ended up in a bohemian bar down a side street. The waitress gave me a hard time for being American…

We jumped into a cab and headed for our hotel – a nice enough place, but near the Peripherique (beware Priceline’s interpretation of “near the Eiffel Tower” – we were as near to the Eiffel Tower as I look like George Clooney).

Aude rides the Metro into Central Paris

November in Paris features a special photography month, a subject near and dear to my heart. On Saturday morning we grabbed the Metro into central Paris to see an exhibit entitled “Children of the World” by Kevin Kling (a woman, despite the name) that was being exhibited outside the Jardin du Luxembourg and where we’d seen an exhibition of the best 20th century press photography when we were last in London. It was a great exhibit despite poor weather conditions.

A group of nuns take in the exhibition

Aude looks at one of the photos in the “Children of the World” exhibition

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

No, not rays of light coming from her head. Rather, something to stop the pigeons crapping down her front.

Sailboat rental

It was Remembrance Day in France, with flowers placed on most of the war memorials

We spent a lot of time like this. Never underestimate a woman’s ability to shop!

We were also going to try to see the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit – an interest to me because he shot nearly his entire portfolio using a 50mm lens. I’ve just bought a 35mm prime lens (the digital equivalent of a 50mm lens in the digital world, and very close to what the human eye sees naturally) and have been looking for inspiration. The 35mm Nikon lens is acclaimed as one of the best Nikon lenses ever produced, but I can’t seem to get it to work its magic for me. (Incidentally, all of the photos in this blog entry were taken with the 35mm lens – your feedback and constructive criticism is welcome!)

Lunch was a couscous at a restaurant on the Left Bank – with a friendly cat that took to Aude immediately.

Proof that you can also find a Mexican in Paris!

As we walked past an Italian restaurant, Aude suggested I snap a photo of the chap in the window as a potential boyfriend for our friend MG. Innocent as I am, this is what I snapped.

Proof that Aude is a bigger pervert than me: Laughing at my picture, she pointed out that I’d entirely missed the point (no pun intended). This was the fellow she had in mind!

We decided to walk from the Jardin of Luxembourg towards Monparnasse, where the Cartier-Bresson exhibit was being held, doing some shopping on the way. Cue the first of many times getting lost in Paris (and the first of many sexist jokes from me). Due to a slightly unscheduled detour, we spent the afternoon shopping and gave up on the Cartier-Bresson exhibit due to my aching feet. On the upside, I did get a kiss from a strange woman – it was her hen night and she was kissing every passing man!

In a scene that was to become uncomfortably familiar, we find ourselves in front of a map, not knowing quite where we are…

We still had a few hours to kill and needed an activity that didn’t involve a lot of walking, so I suggested we catch a bateau mouche. Cue the second of many times getting lost in Paris. Determined to catch the bateau mouche at Pont Neuf (but holding the map upside-down), we ended up walking around nearly the entire Ile de la Cite before finally giving up. Instead, we went to Plan B and headed for Alcazar, the Conran restaurant I had booked for dinner.

Despite being unable to travel by bateau mouche, I was able to take a few pictures of Paris by night – when Paris is at its most beautiful in my opinion

After an ‘Ultra Violet’ for Aude and a Manhattan for me, plus a couple of kirs, we were in a much better mood. We went downstairs for dinner and had a beautiful meal – Aude started with foie gras and then had venison, I started with escargot (leaving me smelling like a true Frenchman all night) and followed with veal. I asked the sommelier for a wine recommendation and he suggested a Corbieres. When the wine was presented, it was a bottle of vintage Pomerol – lucky I paid attention to his suggestion and didn’t take the wine that arrived at my table – it would have been a very expensive mistake!

Sunday morning we met some old friends from Canterbury for a Moroccan brunch – Alain and Faouzia, Julien and his girlfriend Karine. I did my best to order my breakfast in French, but asked that I be served no eggs – and mixed up my article. Cue more piss-taking from a French waitress (and more muttering of C’est pourquoi tout le monde deteste les Parisiens). Despite clarification from my French-speaking friends, she still screwed up my order. No tip for her – he who laughs last, laughs best.

In any case, it was great to catch up, and my friends were all pleased to hear all the gossip and goings-on that had happened in Canterbury since they’d left (although Julien was ahead of the game, being a regular reader of my blog).

Julien & Karine

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Aude outside the restaurant

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Matthew outside the restaurant

L’église Saint Eustache

The Opera

Aude poses for a photo

Matthew poses with the smallest flowers he’s ever seen at the Grand Hyatt in Paris

Cafe culture – what Paris is a famous for!

Matthew standing in Place Vendome

No trip to Paris would be complete without a photo of the Eiffel Tower at sunset, would it?

Paris Metro

We left them mid-afternoon and went for a walk, stopping for a coffee at the Grand Hyatt, then walking down Place Vendome and through the Jardin du Tuleries. Back to the hotel, then we grabbed a cab which took years off my life (and reminded me: I need to update my will) until we finally arrived at Gare du Nord.

Aude smiles on Eurostar despite her reluctance to go back home

Matthew looking somewhat more skeptical

Beats a McDonalds!

Sauteed veal on Eurostar. Remember when food on the plane was like this?

A few hours later, and here I am again on the Eurostar (today’s celebrity sighting was James Blunt, having a drink in the Eurostar business class lounge), heading back to Canterbury at 300km per hour, eating another lovely dinner and drinking a glass of wine. I trust I’ll be greeted by two very friendly, very hungry looking cats.

Back to work tomorrow, but only for four days – we’re off to a Scottish wedding on Thursday night. Such a jet-setting life we lead. I’ve already packed my man-skirt.