Very industrious

Back to the real world, P. and I did the shopping with Franz the Corolla, dropped his shopping in to Noel's and P. installed/constructed Noel's new oil heater, then we posted Noel's parcel at the post office and got pills from the health centre, then got petrol as instructed by GoGet in an email. Home for salmon patties for lunch. No work done, but that can wait till tomorrow, now for a nap. After that I finished off the non-fiction book, this stage. We had leftover soto ayam for dinner followed by baby cheeses. Not bad teev: Killing Eve and Spooky Music.

Work, renos and opera

This morning, I made good progress on the non-fiction book and it's nearly finished. Danny the architect dropped in with final drawings and a few questions then we had leftover beef burgundy on toast for lunch. Michael H. has the flu so can't join us for the opera but after a bit of ringing around Sally M. can join us for a bite at Yoyogi and the show. It's Il Viaggio a Reims by Rossini which, in this staging, is very entertaining, well sung, but of no significance whatever unless you want to get all postmodern about paintings, history and monarchy. Also, certain things weren't clear like why the travellers were wandering around in their underpants for half the opera. Their luggage carriage is supposed to have overturned but surely they were wearing clothes at the time. Also, the reason why some of them were in the time warp, but others, like the auctioneer, were not. I'm not sure what kind of brainsnap caused it at the Australian Opera as it must have cost a motza with a battery of very good singers and full chorus. We enjoyed it immensely, in spite of the silliness.

I dream of Genie

Early yesterday morning (Tuesday), I went off to Genie the nephrologist who told me I was perfect as usual. We also had a brief chat about books and travel. Back home via Parissiene Pate for some purchases for lunch and dessert then home for more work on the new short story which has now gone back to the translator and some more on the non-fiction book which is revving up to completion. After a brief nap, P. made leftover beef burgundy for dinner plus lots of veg, then lots of teev including Inside Number 9 episode 2. This morning (Wednesday), I powered away on the non-fiction book and made good progress. I might even finish it off tomorrow morning. (That is, this stage of it, not the whole book.) We had the second instalment of the prawn bisque for lunch and now for a nap. P. and I went to Blondie at the Recital Centre for an excellent dinner, then saw the MSO, led by violist Christopher Moore, perform works by Part, Britten and Mozart. As Moore described it, it was the orchestra without a maestro and they seemed to be having fun. Steven Cassemenos played the piano brilliantly in the two Britten pieces.

Good meeting

This morning, I did some work on a NEW short story translation, then was picked up by Jackie Y. to go to a meeting about the non-fiction book. The co-authors are both very different but lovely people and we had a very productive meeting. Now I just have to translate our discussion into the manuscript and return it to them all for review and a small amount of rewriting. Home again for lunch after a quick visit to two bookshops to get books by Stan Grant plus a French travel guide (I know, I know, but I love armchair travel). Home again for a nap then soto ayam for dinner, plus Monday night teev.

Still quiet

The crossword was pretty uneventful. They only made one mistake this weekend, misplacing a port in Honshu south rather than north. I then finished off the short story and sent it off to the translator. We had tomato soup for lunch, then a nap. I made dill salmon for dinner then we had a fairly normal boring night on the teev apart from i-vooing one episode of Inside Number 9 on the recommendation of Carmel B. She was right: it was filthy but not in the way you might expect.

Quiet weekend

Another quiet weekend, starting with a mountain of Saturday papers. I did a further check on the new short story, then some on the non-fiction book before Monday's meeting. We had some yummy Mure's prawn bisque for lunch, all the way from Hobart, then a welcome arvo nap. P. made delicious roast roll of lamb for dinner with all the trimmings and veg. then a night with the teev, a bit slim pickings tonight.

Shopping plus Song Cycle

It was a normal shop this morning with Franz the Corolla. Frank the person is living it up at the Brighton Festival. We delivered Noel's stuff and came home for salmon patties and found the hot water was off. It is still under warranty so Inner-city Plumbing arrived lickety-split and cleaned it out but remain puzzled about why it is silting up. Arvo nap, then off to the Convent after a quick meal of leftovers. We went to see The Abbotsford Mysteries, a song cycle based on poems about the girls trapped in the convent sung by Liane Kegan and Plexus. It was an amazing experience, in the precinct of the Convent, written by Patricia Sykes and composed by Andrew Aronowicz. Home again for a dramatic night of teev: Killing Eve and Spooky Music (Silent Witness).

Busy day

I was up early to go to see the vampire at the Health Centre for my blood test before next week's appointment with Genie the Nephrologist. Mary, the usual vampire, now works part-time, Monday to Wednesday, and Lesley works on Thursday and Friday. She is very nice and calls me 'love' and 'darl'. Home again to work on the story. P. has gone off to visit the Shaw sisters. After a nap, P. and I joined Michael H. for a quick meal at Yoyogi then went to the State Theatre for the Australian Opera's Cosi Fan Tutte. Although three and a half hours long it was absorbing and entertaining, and even meaningful. Jane Ede was excellent along with the rest of the cast.

Lunch at Mario's

I started work on the new story this morning and should finish it tomorrow. Late in the morning, P. and I went to Mario's to meet up with Barry D. We had a good lunch and a chat. It was good to catch up. Now for a nap. For dinner we had the leftover beef rendang and I made up most of the leftover rice into fried rice. A night with quiet Wednesday night teev.

Music salves all wounds

Maybe not quite, but I feel a lot better having seen Academia Arcadia perform works by JS and CPE Bach, Corelli, Purcell and Scarlatti. It was part of the Musica Viva Morning Masters (previously Coffee Concerts) which now have savoury nibblies as well as cakies beforehand. The Purcell and Scarlatti were particularly good and Jacqueline Orgeil introduced the reproduction Cristofori piano, thanks to the largesse of the late Elisabeth Murdoch. It took seven years to make, so God knows what it cost. We came home for leftover pork-barreling for lunch. The recipe is named in honour of Scummo and his vain efforts in Corangamite where he promised to lavish $26,500 on every elector. Will the promises hold now that he has been elected but Sarah Henderson hasn't? Don't hold your breath, Corangamite. My amazing luck holds. Yesterday, I sent off the non-fiction book into the void for comment and, after I did that, a new job turned up in my inbox. I got some good feedback on the non-fiction book and P. made beef rendang for dinner. All's right with the world, except the Australian government.

Still working

Today, I worked like crazy to take my mind of the elections and by lunchtime sent off the non-fiction book to the other editor. We'll see how I've gone. P. went off to staff the U3A office and we had 'leftovers' for dinner, still licking our wounds. The aftermath is still going on (as it will for three awful years). At least Rabbott is gone (Four Corners), we'll see how Q&A goes. Early to bed I think.

Work to forget

After the crossword, which was finished in a world record time, I spent most of the day working on the complicated non-fiction manuscript to forget about the events of last night and Scummo's 'miracle'. Julie and Ian dropped in with a new DNA test for Ancestry.com which I'll do tomorrow. P. went off on secret U3A business for most of the morning. Now for a much-needed nap. I made fish soup for dinner which was not bad, then baby cheeses and Sunday night teev for relaxation and forgetting yesterday's election. Bill Shorten has unfortunately given Tanya Plibersek the kiss of death as new Labor leader and said he might stay on as a front bencher. Some people can't give up, keep on keeping on and fuck things up. Vide Tony Rabbott.

Election day

P. and I picked up Franz the Corolla this morning, got some coffee supplies in Brunswick Street then went to Victoria Gardens (ho! ho! I don't see no gardens) for our shopping and Noel's. We delivered Noel's to his place, had a short chat then went home to unload and have lunch. Afterwards, off to vote. Fortunately the queue was not long being the arvo but there was NO sausage sizzle at the Elderly Cits. When voting is at the Education Centre opposite there is always a democracy sausage to be had with all the trimmings. Pull the finger out, elderly cits! Oh, I am one. Now for an arvo nap before the counting starts. We're settling in for the evening's counting with a bottle of bubbly on ice in case Labor wins and we're rid of Scummo and his gang of thieves. We even, as per instructions on Facebook, have a bottle of stiff spirits in case of a COALition win. In the end, I couldn't stand Scummo's rendition of 'I believe in miracles' and went to bed without hitting the hard stuff. Tomorrow is another day.

Movie time

This morning, P. and I went to the library for Teresa P.'s Sassy Dames film course. This one was Mae West in I'm No Angel, an hilarious movie with some of her best one-liners ('It's not the men in your life, it's the life in your men' 'When I'm good, I'm good but when I'm bad I'm better') Mysteriously, most of the group seemed to think that Mae, or rather the character, hadn't fucked the men in the story when it seemed to me obvious that she had. We came home for soup for lunch. After a nap, we had anchovy pasta for dinner, followed by a Bob Hawke extravaganza, tempered by watching Killing Eve on i-voo.

Working on

I made very good progress on the non-fiction book today and feel as though, if I haven't conquered it, I've at least mounted the barricades. P. did some more captioning on the holiday snaps while I went to the Health Centre to get some pills. It took longer than I expected as they forgot about me waiting. Meanwhile, I enjoyed finishing Overland and chatting to Helen the nurse. Home again for pea and ham soup for lunch and more rearranging the book, then a short nap. We went into town to Pope Joan, occupying the space where Pei Modern used to be in Collins Place. We had a superb, though not cheap dinner, with excellent service. Then, off to 45downstairs for Mr Burns, a play by Anne Washburn (U.S. writer). It is a return season from one earlier this year which was sold out. It is an energetic performance by a very good young cast, but the play is a bit mystifying about a post-electric, post-nuclear world where reminiscing and performing the Simpsons and Gilbert and Sullivan have a certain cachet (God knows why?). Go figure, I couldn't. But it was diverting and enjoyable and good value for money.

Working away

I've spent the morning on the non-fiction book and think (hope) I'm making good progress. P. has gone off for lunch with Robin S. After an arvo nap, we had pea and ham soup for dinner, followed by cold roast pork and apple sauce. Normal Wednesday night teev.

Beavering away

This morning, I got right into working on the non-fiction book and made good progress though it is quite hard intellectual work keeping all the balls in the air at once. P. then took over the computer to download more holiday pics plus caption those already downloaded. I went off to the supermarket to get some ingredients for Eton Mess for dessert for dinner tonight. After a nap, I found P. in the kitchen making pea and ham soup, then getting dinner ready. I did my small amount of prep. for dessert. Frank and Michael H. turned up for dinner. We had P.'s soup, then roast pork, then Eton Mess. It was not bad with good magging. We said bon voyage to Frank, who heads off overseas early on Thursday.

Abnormal Monday

The morning started with the usual Monday things (The Australian Media Diary column and so on), the cleaners coming lickety-split. Then P. started downloading holiday photos, a long process, not to download them, but to caption them. While this was happening, I had a longish phone call with the primary editor of the non-fiction book. It does turn out to be as complex as I thought, however I'll have a go at streamlining it a bit. P. and I had soup for lunch before a much-needed nap as my head hurts from too much intellectual activity. In the early evening, P. and I joined Frank at Blondie for an excellent meal, then went to the Salon for the Song Company. They did an ambitious collaboration where they teamed up with two members playing bass guitar from Melbourne band The Omnific and 12th-century polyphony from Notre-Dame Cathedral. There was a high degree of musicianship on stage, both from the Song Company and the two young bass players. It was a brave experiment which ALMOST worked but became a bit repetitive at times. Full marks for trying something different, though.

More or less back to normal

This morning, we did the Age big crossword in almost record time. I finished off the blogging of our holiday and updated the itinerary to what really happened rather than what was planned. I also finished reading the new non-fiction book which is very good but contains a few puzzles. After a leftover lunch (beef burgundy), we went of to Homo Hall for the Aust. Chamber Orchestra. They were featuring both Branford Marsalis on saxophone and a program of mainly South American pieces, under the direction of Satu Vanska. It was an exhilarating program with great variety including a concerto for saxophone and string orchestra by British composer, Sally Beamish, which was very impressive. Home again, for leftover chook followed by more Vera, which we thought we had missed while away, but we had already seen it, only a few weeks ago on the teev in the Yorkshire Dales at Long Preston.

Milan

Last night (Saturday), we had a small dinner after lunch out with just small salmon steaks, mashed spud and beans. We watched two of the episodes of Vera which we missed while we were away. Back to leaving Cannes: we had a bit of a wait at the Cannes station because we had to check-out of our hotel an hour earlier than I thought. However, it wasn't cold or draughty like Paris. We found out why the train from Cannes to Ventimiglia was so cheap. It was because it was little more than a suburban train with toilets. There were good views of the sea and misty mountains above the sea though the seaside developments were not at all inspiring. We arrived at Ventimiglia where there was a plusher train to take us to Milan which even had a bar and snack bar of tiny proportions. The views of the Italian countryside were good as Milan approached with the Alps behind it. We found our way out of Mussolini's massive central station with a bit of difficulty then spied our hotel across the square. It was a good hotel, Michelangelo, not cheap but affordable on a pay-in-advance deal. Our room had magnificent views across the Alps. It was well located too with a metro right outside the door. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, always a mistake, and it was. The rest of the hotel, though, was very good including the multicultural breakfast. Next day (Saturday), we went to the Castello Sforzesco. The guidebook didn't prepare us for the vastness of the museums in this place. It started with a Michelangelo Pieta, his last work, and almost modern in execution (it's unfinished). There was a HUGE art gallery, with other museums including archaeological and musical instuments. We retired exhausted for a meal in a nearby trattoria obviously geared for tourists, ventured to the Duomo Square but huge queues were too daunting so we went back to our hotel for a nap. In the evening, we had a meal in the square at a modest cafe. Next day (Sunday), we went to the vast Pinacoteca di Brera with a breathtaking number of Renaissance masterpieces including a beautiful Caravaggio. It is not far from the Duomo Square and La Scala where we went for a good performance of Strauss' Ariadne auf Naxos. The joint is a bit on the pretentious side. All the ushers wear medallions and think they are important (I felt like saying: 'You're just a shop girl'). They have separate cloakrooms for differently priced seats. It was very good to see the production and the historic theatre. Because it was Sunday, not a lot was open so at Lonely Planet's instigation we went to the plush Four Seasons Hotel (over a thousand bucks a night) for drinks and snacks in their garden (it's an old monastery). It was very good but not cheap. We thought the cocktails were expensive at 22 euros a pop but then an array of dips, nuts, olives, crisps, crudites, bread and so on arrived which was almost a meal in itself. We then had some modest entrees and retired with lighter wallets. On Monday, we continued our trek through old houses at the Museo Poldi Pezzoli House Museum which houses a rich collection of art and artefacts. It is truly splendid and not to be missed, then it was back to the Duomo for a proper look, then to the Musee Novocento for 20th century and contemporary Italian art, housed in an old fascist building. We had dinner at a fairly posh eatery near our hotel where the waiter was very rude. The food was good though. I think they were discouraging tourists as they obviously had a fairly rusted-on clientele. They took our money though. On Wednesday, we visited the Science Museum which has an impressive display of Leonardo models plus almost everything else scientific. We then took our tour which we had to do to see the Last Supper by Leonardo. I think it's a bit of a racket to restrict entry to the Last Supper to force people to take tours they don't want. However, a relook at the Duomo with commentary and the same at La Scala and its museum (which we hadn't seen before) was well worth it and the Last Supper IS superb. We dined at a bistro/restaurant/pizzeria called Rita and Alexander at Lonely Planet's recommendation and I had my obligatory Italian pizza which was superbly cheesy. Next morning, Wednesday 1 May, we caught a cab to the airport. Our Singapore airlines flight to their homebase was good, especially as we had three seats between the two of us. The food, onloaded at Milan, was quite passable too. The next leg, on to Melbourne, was very multicultural, as you might expect, but chocka. The food, onloaded at Singapore was fairly poxy and the service was hindered by a very large proportion of passengers requiring special diets, including the two spoiled children in the seat in front of me who got special meals, then refused to eat them. However, we made it home with no regrets, tired but happy and other cliches.

Lunch and Cannes and vicinity

Today, we had lunch with my sister Julie, her husband Ian and their friend (probably by now OUR friend) Russell at the Elephant and Wheelbarrow in the city. We had a good mag, often about travel. So let's get back to it. We left Aix after a good breakfast at the Globe Hotel and a slightly nailbiting exit from the squeezy garage. We motored off in the direction of Cannes in the pouring, and I mean pouring, rain along the freeway. We had a modicum of trouble when a roadside 'aire' refused both our credit cards for petrol and refused to take cash, but a helpful attendant fixed things, saying 'We often have this trouble.' Why have a system which often doesn't work, I ask? We diverted from the freeway to drive along the Cote d'Azur. It might look better in the sun, though I doubt it. It is wall-to-wall developments and rather seedy-looking beaches occasionally. Not recommended at all. We arrived in Cannes, located our hotel after a bit of trouble but P. navigated superbly. We looked for the carpark which the hotel's info. had said was near the station nearby. Now, I am spooked by big carparks with those twisty ramps, so after a little while I exited the carpark in terror. After a while, looking for an alternative, we tried again, and found (1) that this very carpark was where we had to return the car in the end, and (2) that if we only went up it far enough we could find a spot that you could drive right in to, rather than try to reverse into an impossibly tight spot. So we did, then trundled our bags to the nearby hotel. It was one of the cheapest on our trip and one of the best because it had a LIFT and a rooftop breakfast room with a splendid view of Cannes (glassed-in). The rooms were small, spartan but adequate, and the staff were friendly. We made up for the trials of the day with a posh dinner at a place called Grain de Sel, close by, a sort of French-Asian fusion. The head waiter was a bit snooty but the food was splendid and his underling waiter was very pleasant. Next day, we fled Cannes which doesn't have a lot to recommend it really and went to Vence, where we have been before, to the lovely old town and its tiny cathedral. Parking was a bit of a nightmare again but we found a spot. We had a very authentic French lunch at a place with two authentic madames and enjoyed the old town. We then, on the recommendation of the tourist office, walked and walked and walked to the Matisse chapel. It was a hike but worth it at last (the last time we visited it was closed). On the way back to Cannes we passed St Paul de Vence, which is a bit of a tourist trap, but stopped at the Fondation Maeght which we also missed last time. It is a splendid modern art gallery with a view across the countryside to die for and artists of the likes of Miro with paintings and magnificent sculpture. We made it back to Cannes, dumped Celia sadly in the carpark then went in search of dinner at a guidebook-recommended eatery, Cote Jardin. P.'s navigation found it, in a suburban backstreet, and we had a splendid meal. Cannes had been good at least for eating and sleeping. Next morning, it was off to Milan.

Newspapers and Aix-en-Provence

It was very much back to normal this morning with a mountain of newspapers, a week away from the federal election. Now, back to Aix-en-Provence. We continued our debacle of arriving in strange cities, though this time it was not our fault. P. had charted a route following the very clear instructions from our hotel. What we didn't know was that there was a street closure which rendered the instructions impossible. The only solution was for me to hover in Celia the Citroen in an impossible, illegal spot with traffic bearing down on me, while P. went off on foot to find the hotel. He did and a new route to get there. Later, we found they had sent an email informing us about the closure but it arrived after we left Australia. We arrived successfully at the hotel, parked Celia in their garage with relief and booked in. Hoorah! The hotel, though not too posh, had a lift and was very adequate in every way! That evening, we had a very good dinner in the main square (actually a rotonde) at another L'Atelier, where I had a do it yourself beef tartare. They provided the ingredients and you make it up as you like it. Aix was part of our trip across the south of France visiting places we had missed before including the Pyrenees, Carcassone and Aix (where I had been briefly in 1975 but that hardly counts). Next morning we were up to more laundromatting as there was one down the road. Unfortunately it was a bit seedy (like the whole area) and the clothes failed to spin dry so took a long time in the dryer to come good. We then went to the very helpful tourist information who gave us a map for the Circuit de Cezanne, which we did half of, then went to the splendid Musee de Tapisseries in the old Bishop's Palace (they certainly looked after themselves, those bishops). In the evening, we had a meal at a very trendy bar on the famous Cours Mirabeau which was okay but a bit pretentious (the bar, not the food). Next day, (Tuesday), we completed the Circuit de Cezanne with the Musee Granet which, as well as an eclectic collection, contains a few unusual Cezannes, then the Musee Granet XX which contains the splendid Blanc collection in an old church. There were some Picassos which I thought were better than those in the Picasso museum in Paris plus a special bonus for me: four Rouaults. They are hard to come by. After a bit of difficulty with buses and help from the very good Tourist Bureau, we made it at last to Cezanne's preserved atelier which was well worth it. In the evening, we had a not-bad dinner at a bistro near the Grand Theatre de Provence, a snazzy new theatre, where we heard Arcadi Volodos, a Russian pianist ably strut his stuff.

Shopping again, back to Venasques

P. and I picked up Franz and went off to the Mall to do our shopping and a small amount for Noel. We delivered his stuff, plus a bonus chocs gift from Haigh's, then had salmon patties from the Mall for lunch plus an oddity, a Vegemite pastry, which I had to try. Now back to Venasque in southern France. We wanted to go there as we had been there at least twice before: a beautiful hilltop town in Provence probably unequalled. It is quite a way from Carcassone so we were getting late for lunch but wanted lunch at the beautiful little town of L'Isle Sur Sorgue. What we didn't know was that the Easter market was on and we were totally unable to find a park. I got into an awful position in a parking area where I was virtually stuck, unable to get out. Eventually a very difficult turning by degrees got us out and we fled. The next town seemed to be serving lunch in their one restaurant but as we sat down the waitrine said not we can only give you some cheese or some such, but lunch is off love as it's two o'clock. We limped on to Venasque where we had a kind of arvo tea at a new eatery/bar there with an incomparable view. We also had a magnificent dinner at Les Remparts, their fine dining restaurant with wonderful service and food. As the sun faded over the valley view, some of the trials of the day disappeared. Our hotel room and breakfast were good too. We also visited the ancient church and baptistery in the town, parts of which date back to Roman times. In the morning, we dropped in for a nostalgia visit to the Abbaye de Senanque. Being Easter Sunday, we couldn't visit but it was sufficient to see the beautiful, peaceful place (not quite so peaceful on Easter Sunday) and pass by the gorgeous hilltop town of Gordes which looked like a carpark. Today, we could only manage lunch at a roadside pitstop, but it was just passable and made it to Aix-en-Provence.

Carcassone and Moliere

Last night, Frank joined us for a cheap and cheerful (and quite good) meal at Yoyogi. It was good to be back. We went to the Fairfax Studio for Bell Shakespeare's The Miser, starring the man himself, John Bell. A consistently good cast presented a contemporary Australian view of the play with a lot of laughs and good feeling. See it if you can. Back to Carcassone: When Violet le Duc restored the castle and the old town in the nineteenth century I doubt whether he knew what a tourist boom it would cause now. Our hotel was very good though it was a trial getting bags and us up to the second floor repeatedly. No lift. We looked over the small street and were able to leave Celia in their garage for the duration, a wise move in view of the narrow, twisting streets in the joint. We walked just down the street on the recommendation of the patrons to a crowded Spanish tapas bar where to the waitrine's amusement we overordered something frightful. It was Wednesday night. Next morning, we were up to some washing, having been on the road for a while, so retreated to a nearby laundrette for the boring but necessary task. Sally and Roger who were coincidentally on the other side of the river and coinciding with us for a couple of days, joined us for a simple lunch at the nearby Vintage Cafe. In the arvo, P. and I made the trek up to the castle and the old town and enjoyed the somewhat exhausting time walking up and down spiral staircases of a medieval kind. We also viewed the splendid old Basilique St Nazare and had a rest and a coffee in the cobbled streets which were beginning to tell on our old feet. We had dinner at another nearby eatery, this time French which was quite good and friendly. Next day was Good Friday, though nothing much seemed closed, which was strange for a supposedly Catholic country. Sal and Roger took us over to their flat where we had a good lunch, then a trip on the Canal du Midi through several locks. We finished with dinner at their place. They were off the next day in the direction of Toulouse and Bordeaux on the way to Portugal.

The Pyrenees

Last night, after I finally did get some work done on the new non-fiction book, we had leftover beef burgundy for dinner. This morning, it was back to work again, so I'll take a break to take us to the south of France: we went on the TGV from Paris to Lourdes which was a pleasant journey with some intriguing travelling companions. We arrived in Lourdes, where we had to stay overnight as the carhire company was not open on Sunday when we arrived. Our hotel, the Best Western near the station, was comfy and a bit quirkily decorated but considerably better than the majority of hostelries in Lourdes. Lourdes is best described as a dump, full of religious souvenir shops and not much else apart from a lot of decrepit-looking hotels. We had a decent meal at our hotel and a good night's rest before picking up Celia the Citroen next morning without any trouble after I had been shown how to start a keyless car. We arrived fairly quickly in Luz-St Saveur, where we had a cheap lunch at what seemed to be a tradies and truckstop eatery. We dropped into our hotel after a bit of difficulty finding it to be greeted by one of its owners, Laurent, who we later found out was the mayor of Luz, who told us his wife, Sian, our 'relative', would be back shortly but he could show us our room if we liked. We put our stuff into our room and visited the lovely old church opposite. By the evening, we still hadn't seen Sian but found a very plush eatery nearby, L'Atelier, for dinner. The other clientele were very interesting. We finally caught up with Sian, over breakfast. She is the daughter of my ex-first wife's current partner (hence practically related). She had figured out who we were, even though grandson David, who often stayed there when he was in France, tried to keep it quiet. Sian runs the hotel, while Laurent runs the village. That day, Tuesday, we headed for the hills with Celia and saw the Cirque du Gavarnie, drove up to near the Cirque Trommouse and saw a few marmosets frolicking in the mountains. We had lunch in the little village of Cedres and dinner at a restaurant around the corner which Sian recommended called the Basque Toye (the name of the region). She also recommended a hilltop town on the way to our next stop, Carcassone, called St Bertrand de Comminge, which is a tiny place with a huge cathedral. We had a coffee and cake there, then lunch at an amazing cave with a road through it called the Grotte Mas d'Azil. Finally, we arrived at Carcassone where we repeated our trick of driving around and around very narrow streets trying to find our hotel after I had made the mistake of believing we could drive across a bridge which is for pedestrians only.

Paris

Today, I've at last finished all the catch-up from our trip and can settle in to getting some work done. As a way of putting that off, I'll do one more instalment on the trip: Paris. After checking in to the Hotel near the Place des Vosges, we went round the corner to Cafe d'Antoine for a cheap and cheerful meal. Next morning, we went round the other corner into the Place des Vosges, beautiful as ever, but without the chestnut trees in bloom. As we proceeded on our trip the chestnut flowers gradually came out until by the end they were in full bloom. We went to the Victor Hugo house in the Place. It is a slightly cluttered, fussy house but it was good to see an example of a nineteenth-century French prosperous house. We had a very pleasant lunch at an unpretentious Marais cafe (Sevigne) and went to the Picasso Museum which, as well as having lashings of his work, is also a pleasing palace in its own right. In the evening, we had a good meal in the Grands Boulevards, near the Opera Garnier (Cafe Cappucines), then went to our box in the Opera for Don Pasquale. It was a good production but marred by a slightly underpowered Don Pasquale. However, the experience of being in this wonderful old opera house was well worth it. The next morning (Thursday), P. was not feeling well, so he stayed abed and I went off to reccy our afternoon excursion. On the way, I had a nostalgic look at the Pont Neuf and the Tuileries. In the arvo., after a quick bistro lunch at a cafe called the Cooperative, we joined a tour to Giverny, the Monet house north of Paris. On a previous trip, we had missed it as we drove there on a day that it was closed and could only peer over the wall. It is well worth visiting, and the trip to get there and back is lovely. The driver took us past La Roche-Guyon where Rommel parked himself during the war, as well as other Monet haunts such as Argenteuil. In the evening, we returned to the so-called classy eatery we visited last time, Bofinger, which has splendid decor and a lot of pretension. This time it was more like Faulty Towers. The food was okay, but the waiters (all men) were disastrous, dropping things and getting orders wrong. Next day (Friday), we went to the Gustav Moreau museum (part of the project to visit things we had missed before). It was good to see another fairly intact old house, though his art leaves me a bit cold. We then headed off to the burbs for the Musee Marmottan (Monet, continuing a theme). We had lunch on the way at the Tabac de Muette, a very traditional old bistrot, with lots of rusted-on customers. The Monet museum was splendid as always and had a very crowded temporary exhibition of eastern-influenced art, mainly French. We had dinner for P.'s birthday at a very good, contemporary local restaurant, Le Capitaine. The staff, both cooks and waitrines were very pleasant and the food was splendid. On Saturday, we went to the Luxembourg Gardens and an exhibition of the Nabis (Bonnard and company) whom you don't see too much of. We were thwarted in going to the Petit Palais as Yellow Vest demos in the Champs Elysee closed the relevant metros. All the way on our road trip through the south of France we came across the odd small demos at roundabouts. We followed up with a Spanish fish dinner (!) then went to a splendid production at the Bastille opera of Lady Macbeth of Mtensk, by Shostakovich. It was gripping. How the singers fill the vast space of the Bastille auditorium is a puzzle. We were also thwarted the next morning, in leaving Paris, as the streets were closed off from 7am for the Paris Marathon. Madame at the hotel finally worked out that we would have to leave in a taxi at 6.30 to get to the Gare Montparnasse for our train to Lourdes. This worked well, except we had to spend nearly three hours in a freezing cold station with very few good facilities. (They are doing it up, but too late for us.) However, we were eventually on our comfy TGV heading for Lourdes.

Next instalment, London, and another concert back home

Last night (Monday), P. cooked beef burgundy which was our first 'real' meal since getting home. It was delicious. Bill Shorten performed very well on Q&A to my surprise and wasn't wooden for once. Tonight, P. was not feeling well, so Frank joined me for MusicaViva. It was a very unusual one: Eve-Marie Zimmermann and Keisuke Nakagoshi on four-handed piano played commissioned pieces from round the world based on paintings from their country of origin. It was a virtuoso triumph. Back to the holiday, bear in mind that it is appearing on the blog backwards so you need to start at the bottom and work up. We drove back to Manchester from Maryport lickety-split though paused at Keswick to see the Derwent Pencil Museum (thanks, Frank) which was fascinating, though perhaps a mistake, as we began a practice which became common on entering strange and unknown cities. We drove around and around central Manchester trying to find the entrance to the car hire carpark. We did eventually but missed our London train and caught a later one. The train journey was okay though spartan for the high price. We paid less to get from London to Paris, from Paris to Lourdes and from Cannes to Milan. Go figure! Ain't capitalism grand. We checked into the almost familiar Judd Hotel and went down the road to the same gastro pub we ate at last visit. It was okay but a bit pricey, a fact we will get used to in Europe which England is still (just) part of. In the morning, we had the first of a few hotel brekkies which were quite good (better than last time). When I asked one of the waitrines what language they were speaking, she replied Romanian. It seems, from brief observation, that the hospitality industry would collapse without them and other eastern Europeans. English Polly met us at the hotel and we decamped to the Victoria and Albert Museum which was fascinating but very busy. We did manage to get a table for lunch in the chaos. In the early evening, we went off to the vicinity of the Barbican Theatre, where we had a good but simple Italian meal then went off to Handel's Semele which was a semi-staged (in fact, acted) performance which was unusually rivetting for Handel with good performances, singing and playing. It had a match near the end of the journey in Milan with Adriane auf Naxos, but more of that later. Next morning, we met Polly again and went off, with her expert guiding, to the Wallace Collection, part of our project of catching up with things we'd never seen. It was in a splendid old house which was fully furnished and full of bric-a-brac and pretty good art. I added it to my collection of old shacks. We had a simple lunch near Leicester Square and said farewell to Polly till next time and went to the Coliseum to see the ENO do an excellent performance of The Magic Flute using all manner of electronic wizardry to good effect. The whole opera didn't make much sense still but didn't seem as absurd as it sometimes can be. Plus the music was superb. We despaired of finding anywhere good for dinner so wound up at a Sushi Train in Bloomsbury which turned out to be very good. Next morning (Sunday), we made a train excursion to the burbs for the Dulwich Picture Gallery, designed by John Soane, the architect; it was the first purpose-built gallery for the public as opposed to private collections in grand houses, like the Wallace Collection. They had a great collection, though small, of old masters and a not-bad lunch. Back in Bloomsbury, we had very superior fish and chips at a nearby eatery. P. is sold on Sea Bass. Next morning, we did the old warhorses Westminster Abbey (which I'd never seen), the Banqueting Hall (likewise), then the National Portrait Gallery. We finished off our time in London with a brand-new opera, Jack the Ripper at the ENO. It was rivetting, musically and dramatically, as it depicted the women sex workers under threat from the Ripper. Next morning (Monday), in London drizzle, we did a literary walk around Bloomsbury, though jibbed at the huge queue at the British Museum, before catching the very comfy Eurostar to Paris. We checked into the Hotel de la Place des Vosges, which was very familiar, especially as they gave us the same very squeezy room we had last time.

Two good concerts and the Lakes

Yesterday evening, we went off to our old friend, the Recital Centre for the second of the main Metropolis concerts. We missed the first because we were still in transit but Frank said it was very good. The second was too with a wonderful piece by Mark Holdsworthy to start. I am not so sold on Lior as a vocalist in the next piece by him and Ade Vincent. The final piece by Louis Andriessen as arranged by the conductor Clark Rundell (now resident in Birmingham, another nice bit of coincidence) was a lot of sound and fury signifying...not very much. Today we went to the Melbourne Chamber Orchestra at the same venue (get a room!) for pieces by Bach, Telemann, Bartok and Dvorak with a new piece thrown in by Keith Crellin (not the oboeist for the MSO). Frank and Michael H. were also at the concert. In the evening, I cooked some salmon for dinner, our first cooked meal at home, hardly flash but at least a start. Back to the holiday: we headed off in our car from Birmingham in the direction of the Bronte parsonage in Haworth. In a coming series of old houses, I should say that I am really interested in well-preserved old houses rather than the famous personages who lived in the parsonages. In this case, it is no wonder that Bramwell Bronte took to the drink. The house was small and dark and had far too many people in it tripping over each other. The Brontes must have driven each other crazy and took to writing novels to escape. We spent the night at the cutely named Maypole Inn, a genuine old pub at Long Preston. You could tell it was genuine as the doorways were all too low and you had to stoop to get through. They had a reasonable meal and friendly service. Next morning we did a circuit of the Yorkshire Dales which were very attractive with black-faced sheep and all. Then we went through the Forest of Bowland Area of Natural Beauty with very little forest and wound up at Morecambe where we stayed at the wonderful Art Deco Grand Hotel which had rooms with great views of the Morecambe mudflats and lots of mysteries in the room, like folding toilets (I kid you not), lowering hanging racks and other puzzles to keep you amused. Their dinner (included) was pretty speccy too. We also went and visited the home of P.'s maternal grandparents where we were interrogated by a neighbour for peering at her mother's house. Next day, it was off to the Beatrix Potter farm which was again dark and gloomy but I got a postcard to remind Pat A. of her years of flogging that wretched rabbit. We had a night at the Cuckoo Brow Inn (do they have brows?) run by a Romanian family (more about the Romanians later) who were very welcoming and efficient. Their meal was not bad either. Next day, we were off in the direction of Maryport but first we 'did' the Lakes District starting with the very spectacular Keswick Standing Stones at Castlerigg. The magnificent 360 degree view over snow-covered mountains from the stones explains why they were built there. We stopped very briefly in the main Lakes town, Windermere, and fled, then had one of the best drives in the world over the Honister Pass to Buttermere where we had a snack and a coffee. On to Maryport, to meet up with Kelly and Ian. I worked with Kelly over thirty years ago at Penguin Australia while she and her hubby were on a working trip. We had a walk along the foreshore with the aged dog, then Ian did a superb meal. Next day, we went with Kelly to Cockermouth to see the Wordsworth childhood house (another place nice for the house rather than the inhabitants) and a walk around Cockermouth. We then viewed the local Roman museum. This was about as far north as the Romans or any sensible people would go in order to avoid mixing with the fractious Scots. In the evening, we had a very good Indian meal in Maryport. It was lovely during a trip of hotels and meals-out to stay in a real house for a bit.

Beginning the trip

This morning, we were getting a bit back to normal. All the Saturday papers arrived renewed and we got Franz the Corolla and went off to Victoria Gardens (without Frank who was dealing with house fixing). We got our shopping and a few things for Noel which we dropped at his place and picked up his mail. We then went to Rehab to see him. He gets out on Monday at last. He has been in Rehab the whole time we've been away. We then went home for salmon cakes for lunch, from the shopping, and had a nap. Back to the holiday: our flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong with Cathay Pacific was fine. Sally and Roger were on the same flight by coincidence (in a better class). We went together to our hotel, the Salisbury (the old YMCA, much singing) where we were given an upgraded suite (!) overlooking Hong Kong harbour. It was the best view and best room we are likely to have in the entire trip. We joined Sal and Roger for some street food nearby then had the sleep that the whole stop was about. Next day, P. and I went on the round HK bus tour and went up in the train to the peak. Off to the airport after a quick meet at the hotel where we had the package in the airport. It was not worth it for the food (pretty terrible) but was worth it for the shower. In retrospect, it would have been better as a stopover if we had had an extra night in the hotel. Off then to Manchester, where we arrived on time but then waited 45 minutes waiting for a landing dock! We dropped our bags at the hotel then took the Manchester free bus to the excellent art gallery and the even better People's Museum which has an excellent history of the Peterloo Massacre and other demonstrations for more freedom and rights including a wonderful collection of trade union banners. Back to our hotel, the recommended (by Frank) One Motel, near the station, which is squeezy but functional with an excellent breakfast. Next morning, we collected our car, Alice the Astra, and headed for the Yorkshire Moors.

Home again

We're home again after five weeks of hoofing around in various ways. I'll post about it as time allows as I don't want to leave out any choice details. Our last legs were on Singapore Airlines who were terrific from Milan to Singapore, then there was a horrorshow trip from Singapore to Melbourne. This was partly because Sing-Melb was chock-a-block with lots of children and babies. The airline crew handled the littlies very well, but I think were defeated by the fact that nowadays between a quarter and a half of the customers require special food offerings. It takes forever to even get up to the 'ordinary' passengers, then it's a rush. As well, the food onloaded at Milan was vastly superior to that loaded at Singapore (almost inedible). A very nice piece of unexpected serendipity was an onboard screening of Rossini's Comte Ory by the Paris Opera Comique. We had seen a bust and portrait of the composer the day before at the La Scala opera museum, which is a bit tatty but interesting. As well, the whole trip included more than a little opera in London, Paris and Milan. More to come as we go right back to the start.