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Spring is almost sprung

Posted in Favourites, Live Racing with tags , , , on 20/02/2012 by Sheree

I enjoy nothing more than watching live sport, particularly live cycling taking place on roads I too have ridden and know well. So, on Saturday, after despatching my beloved with friends to go cross-country skiing, finished my chores, had a quick ride, leapt into Tom III and headed off down the motorway in the direction of La Croix Valmer, around the headland from St Tropez. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the birds were singing, lambs were gamboling, the Mimosa was in bloom – surely, Spring was just around the corner?

It’s a lovely drive but, as I neared the centre of town, there was a huge traffic jam caused by the team buses trying to reverse into their allocated parking spaces. I noted there were plenty of parking spots on the opposite side of the road and asked one of the many policemen on traffic duty if I could park there. He confirmed I could and gallantly stopped the on-coming traffic so I could do and u-turn and park.

I left the car and headed in the general direction of the finish, first to have a close look at the run in and secondly to bag myself a spot on the finishing line. A couple of hours from the riders’ anticipated arrival time, there were few people milling around, mainly the organisers and press. I bumped into one of the journalists from the Nice Matin who often writes pieces about the club and our events. I reminded him that it wasn’t too many months until the Kivilev.

We chatted generally about cycling and who we thought might make an impact on this week end’s racing. As we walked the final stretch we eliminated a number of riders from the frame. The organisers were correct, this was one of the more testing parcours. My purpose today was two-fold, watch the racing and report via tweets wearing my VeloVoice’s hat. I was hoping to add some colour to the event by chatting to other fans  but the French are very guarded about the internet and what they see as an invasion of their privacy. They were happy to talkt but didn’t want me to mention them on the net, as if it were some work of the devil. Luckily I did find a few who didn’t mind a mention but the crowd, which swelled considerably as time wore on, was largely local and retired.

Things started to crank up when Mr Cycling arrived: Daniel Mangeas. I have only to hear his mellifluous tones rattling off some obscure rider’s palmares to feel at peace. The race’s patron, and event’s first winner, Raymond Poulidor, looking extremely spritely and a glowing advert for the health benefits of cycling. Even Tricky, Dicky Virenque showed up and lent Daniel a hand.

Luckily for the riders, the weather is much improved on the last couple of weeks. Indeed, it was positively balmy. As the peloton approached the final circuit which it was to ride around five times, the seven man breakaway had splintered into a 2-3-2 formation with the front two looking as if they might just manage to hang on, and they did. I just love it when a breakaway succeeds. Kinda restores one’s belief in the philosophy of having a go.

Not having a camera with me, or indeed my cameraman, I skipped the podium to head for home. As I approached my car, the same policemen advised me the road was still closed but that he’d let me know as soon as it was open. Not only did he let me know, he stood in the road and stopped the traffic, before ushering me out in front of two Astana vehicles who followed me back as far as the turn off to Draguignan.

All too soon I was home and my beloved, his face glowing from a day spent in the sun, was demanding to be fed. There’s no peace for the wicked, or me!

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Valentine’s Gift

Posted in Favourites with tags , on 14/02/2012 by Sheree

My beloved has inadvertently given me the perfect present – a whole day’s peace and quiet. Yes, he’s flown off to business meetings in Paris and won’t be back until late. Of course, I could have accompanied him and spent many a happy hour wandering around Paris on my own. It’s one of my favourite cities.

However, duty calls, we have back-to-back meetings at the club this evening. It’s difficult enough finding convenient times for us all to meet and I generally favour meetings just before our regular weekly one. Since none of us on the core management team live in the same town as the club, we try not to schedule multiple meetings on consecutive days. It’s not far but, with traffic, a round trip can take anywhere between 45 minutes and an hour.

I’m not getting off entirely scott-free. I still had to make him breakfast, press his jacket, take him to the airport and will have to rustle up a light snack for a latish dinner and collect him from the airport. The club’s close to the airport but I’ll have about an hour to kill between the end of my meetings and his anticipated return. I’ll pop round to my sister’s holiday apartment to check that everything’s in order for her arrival on Sunday. The shops will be closed and I know she’ll be desperate for a cup of tea and a light dinner after she’s landed. I shall leave her emergency supplies in the fridge.

My beloved has made a quick recovery from his chill which I think he picked up cross-country skiing on Saturday. I know he’s keen to go again – maybe later in the week. However, I don’t want him becoming ill as he’s off on a business trip next week and I don’t want anything to interfere with those plans.

As he’s in Paris, the City of Love, you might be wondering whether he’ll be tempted to buy me a little something for Valentine’s Day. The answer is unequivocably “No”.  He’s been excused all present buying duties following my recently introduced dictate. And let’s face it, it’s not something he enjoys doing, or is one of his [few] competencies –  unlike say, opening a bottle of wine. I’m saving him the angst and me the disappointment. Surely a win:win situation.

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Who’s gonna carry the flag?

Posted in Favourites, Hazards with tags , , , , , , on 10/02/2012 by Sheree

Today L’Equipe has posed the question as to who should carry the French flag at the forthcoming Olympics.  They’ve also questioned whether France  – like Great Britain and USA – should allow the athletes themselves to choose the flag-holder. In any event, it’s academic as the decision’s going to be taken by a committee (what else?), the French Olympic Committee, on 9 June.  That aside, L’Equipe has been canvassing its readership to see who they feel should carry the flag and then contacting the potential candidates for their reactions.

Teddy Riner courtesy of Wikipedia

Two candidates were equally favoured by L’Equipe’s poll: five-times world Judo champion Tenny Riner and Olympic and World Champion hand-baller, Nicola Karabatic: two good choices. They’re both big enough to carry the flag with ease and readily recognisable by the French public. In third place was the former husband of Desperate Housewife Eva Longoria,  basketball player Tony Parker. A number of the candidates proposed by readers – all of the swimmers –  would be ruled out simply from the timing of their events. Interestingly, while both Karabatic and Parker would be happy to fulful this honnor, Riner wants to focus exclusively on winning that elusive olympic gold medal.

Only two cyclists were proposed: double-Olympic MBT Champion, Julien Absalon and the evergreen Jeannie Longo. The latter’s participation in the event is in doubt following recent revelations in connection with her husband and training partner’s use of EPO as a recovery aid, even supposing that at only 43kg she’s capable of carrying the flag for any length of time. Absolan, competing in what will probably be his last Olympics – and gunning for a third gold – would appear to be a sounder choice. He replied that it would be immensely prestigious to be selected to perform this task. Meanwhile, Jeannie couldn’t be reached for a comment.

Potential candidates should note that carrying the flag could be something of a poisoned chalice. Only five of the forty (Winter and Summer Olympics) who have previously undertaken the task, have gone on to win gold medals. I have to confess that I do think the athletes themselves should make the choice. Nothing is nicer for an athlete than the confidence of their peers. However, I’m with Riner. In the highly improbable event of me ever being in contention at the Olympics, I know I would want to concentrate solely on winning. The opening ceremony and any associated ceremonial duties would be an unnecessary distraction. It really isn’t about taking part, it’s about winning: winning gold.

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Postcards from Dubai I

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , , on 02/02/2012 by Sheree

My days have fallen into a similar and comfortable rhythm. I breakfast with my beloved before he heads off to the exhibition. I spend an hour or so reading all the freebie newspapers, including The Financial Times in the hotel lobby. My enthusiasm undiminished by the proliferation of bad news, I head for the gym to wear off last night’s dinner. A quick hour in the sunshine and then back to the laptop to write a blog entry for Velovoices. She’s a demanding new mistress and, with events coming thick and fast, it’s time-consuming just keeping up, let alone getting ahead. I’m trying to profit in my cycling-club free moments to bank a few blog entries.

Job done, I treat myself to a cup of coffee and a spot of people watching. Dubai’s a fascinating place. Over 85% of the residents hail from elsewhere and I like trying to guess where they’re from. As the various Arab gentlemen stroll around looking quite magnificent in their traditional robes, the kandura, I can tell from their headwear from whence they came.  The ladies are more difficult as most wear a slimming, black abaya, often beautifully decorated with embroidery or crystals.  Many also wear the face concealing niqab, so very handy if you’re having a “bad  hair” day or you’ve an outbreak of spots. However, it’s essential that you find time to do your eye make up so as to look alluringly enigmatic.

I then stroll back to meet my beloved. We discuss his day at the exhibition to the strains of the call to prayer as the sun sets, which I always find quite haunting. Dinner is mostly with clients or friends. We eschew the ubiquitous buffets on offer in many of the hotel restaurants, electing to head out on foot or by monorail to find something more traditional. I enjoy middle-eastern food, why come all this way to eat Italian?

My beloved and I have been visiting Dubai for the past ten years, largely on business trips, and have stayed at a number of different hotels. But, with the horrendous traffic jams, it makes sense to stay as close to the World Trade Centre as possible to ease his working day. I’m quite happy pottering about the area. On previous visits I’ve been into the desert, around the creek, walked along the beach, visited the mosque, watched Nadal play tennis and Tiger Woods play golf, window shopped in the malls, mosied around the gold and spice souks and wandered around the art galleries and traditional village. I can’t claim to have seen and done everything that Dubai has to offer but I’m slowly getting there. Here’s one of my favourite sights, the Burj Khalifa Fountains.

But don’t take my word for it, check out what else Dubai has on offer here:

Interactive map of Dubai

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Live the dream

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , , on 19/01/2012 by Sheree

While I was enjoying my post-work out coffee and L’Equipe a little announcement caught my eye. Sebastian Vettel’s been awarded the Grand Prix 2011 from the French Academy of Sports. Well done Seb but that wasn’t what provoked my interest. Among the various awards was one for a Brit, Anthony Smith which recognised his exceptional and original endeavour with a raft! Now the French are masters of extreme sports and there’s a number of Brits who are far more celebrated here than back in Blighty – Dame Ellen MacArthur immediately springs to mind.

When I got back home I had to look up exactly what it was that Anthony Smith had achieved. One of the many advantages of (often) being mistress of my own universe. Yes, my beloved’s fled the nest this week. Now I’m very fond of saying things like:-

  • “You’re never too old to learn something new”
  • “Life’s not a dress rehearsal”
  • “You never want to have IF ONLY on your gravestone”.

You get my drift and so does 85-year old Mr Smith.

Anthony Smith, along with his three senior companions  - David Hildred, John Russell, and Dr Andrew Bainbridge –  recruited via a newspaper advertisement, realised a long-held ambition to sail across the Atlantic in a raft.

The “An-Tiki” was constructed from four water supply pipes nearly 40 feet long, and 14 cross pipes, seven of which held the crew’s fresh water supply. It had a 40 foot mast, a 400 square foot sail, twin rudders, centreboards and oars, but crucially no engine.

All aboard

The adventure was financed by compensation Mr Smith received from being run over by a van which broke his hip and left him needing sticks to walk.

It took them 66 days, averaging four knots per day, to travel the 2,600 miles from the Canary Isles to the Dutch Caribbean island of St Maartan. The crew said they wanted to prove the elderly are capable of embarking on adventures that are mistakenly considered dangerous. They hoped their endeavour would raise £50,000 for the charity Water Aid, which provides potable water to impoverished communities.

Anthony Smith is quoted as saying: “Some people say it was mad. But it wasn’t mad. What else do you do when you get on in years?”

Captain Smith and his crew

“’Yes, of course it’s a success,” Smith said with a smile. “How many people do you know who have rafted across the Atlantic? … The word mutiny was only spoken about two or three times a day.” Doesn’t this story just gladden your heart.

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There’s no such thing as too much

Posted in Cookery, Favourites with tags , on 03/01/2012 by Sheree

Yummy

I hate to be the bearer of bad news so soon after the festive season but, start stockpiling chocolate, a cocoa crisis is looming. Yes, according to the scaremongers, chocolate will soon be considered as luxurious as caviar, and just as expensive. Those City boys are going to be buying cocoa futures like there’s no tomorrow, which will only exacerbate the problem.  

Allegedly, within the next eight years there will be a million ton cocoa shortage, forcing significant price rises in chocolate and related products. It’s the fault of those in the East who have developed a taste for Western treats. Hands off our Mars bars!

I sense the problem’s already begun. One of my current favourite television adverts features tennis player Roger Federer (who knew he had a sense of humour?) going through Customs with a tennis bag full of round Lindor truffles which look like tennis balls in the X-ray machine. The stunningly attractive Customs officials first taste and then confiscate the chocolate while threatening/promising Roger with a strip search.

It’s obviously a spoof as anyone who travels knows that absolutely none of the customs officials look like the two women in the advert. Though they might well confiscate your goodies and subject you to a quick once over with the marigolds.

I understand the real crux of the cocoa problem is low yields and inefficient farming methods in the prime cocoa producing areas, largely in West Africa.

Chocolate comes from the dried and fermented seeds of the tropical Theobroma (meaning food of the gods) cacao tree. They’re small and require rich, well-drained soil. They naturally grow within 20 degrees of either side of the equator because they need about 2000 millimetres of rainfall per annum, and temperatures in the range of 21 to 32 °C. Cacao trees cannot tolerate a temperature lower than 15 °C. (Damm won’t be able to grow any on the balcony.)

The three main varieties of beans used in chocolate are criollo, forastero, and trinitario. Criollo is the rarest and most expensive cocoa on the market, and is native to Central America, the Caribbean and South America. Criollos are particularly tricky to grow and produce low yields. The most common bean is forastero, a native of the Amazon basin. The African cocoa crop is entirely of the forastero variety and they are significantly hardier and of higher yield than criollo. Trinitario is a natural hybrid of the other two varieties and hails from Trinidad.

To harvest cacao, the fully ripened pods are cut from the tree and the beans and surrounding pulp are extracted and placed in bins to ferment for about seven days. The beans are then spread in the sun for 5-7 days to dry quickly and to prevent mould growth before being taken to the chocolate factory to be cleaned, roasted and graded. The shell of each bean is removed to extract the nib. Finally, the nibs are ground and liquefied, resulting in pure chocolate in fluid form which can be further processed into cocoa solids and cocoa butter.

Chocolate liquor is blended with the cocoa butter in varying quantities to make different types of chocolate or couvertures. The finest, plain dark chocolate couvertures contain at least 70% cocoa (both solids and butter), whereas milk chocolate usually contains up to 50%. High-quality white chocolate couvertures contain only about 35% cocoa. Accept nothing but the best! It’s like wine in this respect; don’t cook with anything you wouldn’t eat.

Chocolate first started life as a beverage enjoyed either hot or cold. It was imported into Europe after the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs. It quickly became a Spanish court favourite and within the next century its popularity spread throughout Europe with the first chocolate house opening in London in 1657 and in 1689, noted physician and collector Hans Sloane created a milk chocolate drink.

Come the Industrial Revolution, the Italians invented the first form of solid chocolate. The Swiss jumped on the bandwagon and opened the first chocolate factory. Then the Dutch patented a method for extracting the fat from cocoa beans to make powdered cocoa and cocoa butter. But it was the Germans who made the first chocolate bar swiftly followed by the British, J S Fry & Sons. Enter the Cadbury Brothers from Birmingham and the rest is history.

Or is it? Part II to follow

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Dear Santa…………….

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , , , , on 07/12/2011 by Sheree
What’s in your sack, Santa?

At this time of year the cycling press are happy to provide us with plenty of useful ideas for our Xmas lists. Now it’s been a few years since I last corresponded with Santa, but that’s not to say I shouldn’t give it another go. However, it’ll largely be an academic exercise as I’ve agreed not to buy anyone any Christmas or birthday presents again, ever.  While the whole point of present buying really isn’t reciprocity, I would hazard a guess that if I don’t buy any, I’m not going to receive any. Of course, with all the money I’ll save I could just buy myself something I really, really want.

Now if money were no object, I’d  like my own cycle team. I’m keen to nurture budding talent so I’d be more than happy with a continental ie French 3rd division side. This would also enable me to fulfill another objective as they’d largely only be racing at home.  Travelling with the team in my capacity as Owner, Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, I’d get to visit and, more importantly cycle in, all parts of the Hexagon. With only one sponsor to satisfy, the kit could be simple and stylish. I’d probably ask Geoffroy Lequatre to spin a little G4 magic (www.g4dimension.com) and design the team’s kit and casual wear. Please note, we would definitely be avoiding the black, white and pale blue colour palette seemingly favoured by half the teams in the Pro-Tour peloton.

My beloved has taken some lovely cycling photographs with the Panasonic Lumix camera I bought him a few Christmas’s ago and I’ve been meaning to frame a few and hang them in the hall corridor. To supplement them, I’d love some of Jered Gruber’s magnificent photographs. If you’ve not seen them, please head on over to www.gruberimages.zenfolio.com and prepare to be enthralled. Oh, and don’t buy them all, save a few for me.

Despite the recent problems with my Garmin 500, I’d like some of the new Garmin vector pedals. I can use these on whichever of my bikes I happen to be riding, thereby avoiding the issues with different cranksets and hubs. Plus it’ll analyse and compare my left and ride pedalling actions. In theory more information about my riding should help me to further improve. In this case, less really isn’t more. It’s just less.

It seems a bit greedy but I’d like one of the new BMC bikes, specifically the model as ridden into Paris by this year’s Tour de France winner, the TMOI and Tour Bike.  Except, I don’t want it in yellow. It’s not really my colour and it’s such a difficult one to co-ordinate. Instead, I’d like it in black and white, with a white saddle and white handle bar tape. I’d also like to have my name on it. PhilGil’s got “Fast Phil” on his and I’d like “Slow and Steady Sheree” on mine. No point in denying the truth.

Last but not least, I’d like some trousers without matchstick legs. Yes, I know they’re fashionable but they don’t fit my slimmed down chunky legs, and never will, however little I weigh. Preferred colours: black, dark grey, navy blue and tan.

On the basis that it never pays to be too greedy, I’m going to stop here. Dear Santa, I’d be more than happy with any permutations of the above short but sweet list.

PS Just had another thought. Could you fix it for me to ride with Samu during my next trip to the Basque country?

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A tale of two deliveries

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , , on 06/12/2011 by Sheree

I have a favourite brand of coffee. I’ve dallied with others but return time and time again to my favourite. What can I say? I’m the faithful type. Living as I do in the south of France, you might assume that my preferred brand would be French or, at the very least, Italian. But, no, it’s German. Over the years, I’ve been able to satisfy my coffee cravings thanks to regular trips to German speaking countries where the product is freely available. In recent years my beloved has made bulk purchases from their airport shop which I store in the freezer until required.

In the past six months or so my beloved has made fewer business trips to Germany, specifically Munich, and I’ve turned to their on-line store which ships worldwide. I placed my first order for 6 kilos earlier in the year and it arrived by courier within 3 working days – excellent. At the beginning of last month, when supplies were rapidly dwindling, I placed another order. Three days later I was advised it had been shipped.

I waited and waited, but no delivery. I contacted the company’s customer services (luckily I speak German) who advised it would be with me shortly. A week later and still no sign of my coffee. Suffering severe withdrawal symptoms and desperate for my fix, I recontacted customer services who explained that DHL, their preferred courier service, had been unable to effect delivery because of a problem with my address. I checked on my account, the address was correct. Obviously, the parcel had been incorrectly labelled. Given that they had my email address, my landline and mobile, why had no one thought to contact me? DHL passed the problem onto the French Post Office and their Colissimo service.

Customer services provided me with a 12-digit reference and suggested I contact Colissimo. I did. The French parcel service works off a 13 digit reference and my package could not be located without the full reference number. Believing customer services had made an error, I recontacted them but no, that was the reference provided by DHL. They could do no more. I left for my trip to Paris and New York. Maybe, in my absence, matters might be sorted. In hope, rather than anticipation, I sent Colissimo an email explaining the problem.

I returned from my trip to discover the staus quo unchanged. I politely but firmly gave the company 5 working days to deliver my goods after which I would require a full refund. An apology wouldn’t go amiss either. They said they thought that this was not an unreasonable request and they would be happy to give me one. But, of couse, what I really want is my coffee fix. Undaunted, I have continued to bombard Colissimo and finally I have a 13 digit reference for my package. The problem is that, by my reckoning, the package has been on French soil for at least 15 days. I’m going down to the post office this afternoon but fully expect to be told that my parcel of caffeine has been sent back. The coffee in question comes from Dallmayr’s a venerable German institution.

It’s a delicatessen, restaurant and catering service based in Munich dating back to the 17th century. The main store, after being destroyed in World War II, was rebuilt in 1950 complete with its former neoclassical facade. Dallmayr’s went on-line in 2000 to increase its product distribution and, in 2003, opened its first branch store in Munich Airport’s Terminal 2.

The store was started by Christian Reitter and settled in its current location, near Marienplatz, between 1671 and 1700. His two daughters inherited the store but the name comes from its 1870 owner, Alois Dallmayr, a Bavarian merchant. Dallmayr sold the store in 1895 to Anton Randlkofer, who died two years later. His widow, Therese, took over the store and managed the business very successfully, significantly improving its reputation through leveraging her not inconsiderable social contacts.

In 1930, to cushion itself post the Wall Street Crash, Dallmayr’s expanded its product portfolio with coffee. By 1933, a fully fledged department within the store, including electric bean roasting, had been established by a 19 year old coffee expert, Konrad Werner Wille from Bremen. The unground coffee beans, mostly from Ethiopia, are still stored in hand painted porcelain Nymphenburg jars and quantities purchased are still measured on historic balances.

The main brand, Dallmayr Prodomo, and my favourite, was created in 1960. Over 200 tons of coffee are roasted daily in their coffee roasting premises in Munich and Berlin and sold worldwide. The coffee business was further expanded postwar to include a vending machine service, initially in collaboration with BMW, another famous Bavarian brand, for which Dallmayr remains the German leader.

In 1977 Werner’s son, Wolfgang and Georg Randlkofer took over the management of the family business. In 1984, Nestle purchased a 50% ownership of the coffee division, to establish a foothold in the German coffee market (reduced to 25% in 2003), and in 1985, the coffee division was established as a separate company under Wolfgang Wille. Today Dallmayr is still one of Germany’s premium brands. No visit to Munich, in my opinion, is complete without a visit to their store. It’s a gourmet’s delight. I have also dined in their delighful restaurant.

Postscropt: Fruitless trip to Post Office. The 13-digit number has been assigned to send the parcel back from whence it came. It’s currently in Paris en route to Munich. Coffee anyone?

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Postcard from the Big Apple

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , on 28/11/2011 by Sheree

Another day, another town – the same procedure as before. Yes, I’m now pounding the pavements of Manhattan. We had a great flight over on one of the new Air France 380 super jumbos. Arriving at JFK we queued for over 45 minutes to get into the immigration queue only to be greeted by the message that US Customs welcomed us to New York. Well boys, that’s not my idea of a welcome. It took almost 3 hours for us to emerge from the airport. I felt hugely sorry for anyone travelling with small children or anyone of advanced years.

While my beloved has been busy working from dawn until late, I have been enjoying myself. Even if you don’t know New York like I do, it’d be difficult to get lost within its grid system. My most pressing problem, with only two days at my disposal, what was I going to see?

It’ll be no surprise to my reader(s) that I spent almost all of yesterday morning in Barnes & Noble perusing first the Cookery and then the Sports sections. As usual, I found far too many must have volumes and had to ration myself to just a few tomes to slip in my luggage.

The weather’s incredibly mild and conducive to just wandering around, as is my want. Yesterday, I quickly exited the busy Midtown section and headed south to SoHo, the Meatpacking District and Union Sq to avoid the holiday shoppers in search of bargains.

I have had no luck in my search for some trousers. It’s oh so skinny legs over here too. I know US sizes are seriously out of whack but I derived huge enjoyment from discarding a pair of size 10 trousers for being too large. Despite the amazing bargains on offer, I have not been persuaded to part with any money. It looks as if running amok in the book shops is going to be my only extravagance.

Despite my short stay, there’s still time to fit in some of my favourite things: a quick trip to The Frick, breakfast at The Four Seasons, meals at two of my long time preferred New York eateries for some typical Mexican and South Western US fare, catching up with my French friend who now works in NY and with whom I ate lunch at a recently opened, hot location. My choice, not hers.

It’s been a fun trip but I’m now ready to head back to where my heart is: home. This evening, I shall follow my usual red-eye flight procedure: glass of champagne, eye mask, cashmere shawl and sleep. I am lucky that I can slip into the land of nod pretty much anywhere. We’re flying back via Paris and should be home late afternoon.

Postscript: I skipped the glass of bubbly and was asleep before the plane left the gate.

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Postcard from Paris

Posted in Favourites with tags , , , , on 25/11/2011 by Sheree

I have spent the past three days pounding the pavements of Paris, the world’s most visited city. Like all great cities, you see far more if you religiously navigate its various quarters on foot. Although I always have a small map, just in case, it’s hard to get lost as the wide boulevards give you glimpses of major landmarks at every turn, plus the Seine, which neatly bisects the city, is a great navigational tool.

Over the years, I’ve spent a significant amount of time here and have visited all (yes, really) of the galleries, museums and buildings of significant historical interest. Of course, if the weather’s bad, I’ll happily revisit one of these. But, if it’s not, I just enjoy wandering around gazing at the impressive architecture and pressing my nose to the windows of all the food shops.

My favourites are the patisseries and chocolatiers. But lest you fear for my regime, I only window shop. If I do enter, it’s only to get a closer look. I don’t buy anything, not even for my beloved because this is the food of gods. Wondrous pastries, delicate cakes and delicious dark, crisp chocolate with subtle aromas. While a couple of squares of chocolate will do no harm, it’s hard to resist the rest. So, I enter, inhale and exit.

Of course, I had to pay homage at Pierre Herme’s temple of delicious comestibles. IMHO he’s perfected the art of the macaroon, as ubiquitous in France as the cup cake is in America. Pierre’s melt in the mouth with an intense burst of flavour which lingers on the palate.  Okay, I’ll come clean, I just had to have one, or two.

My window gazing extends to butchers, bakers, delicatessens and cheese shops, plus I love visiting the street markets. Where else would you find stalls dedicated to just one product such as the humble potato. The stall owner who patiently explained to me about which spuds were best for which dish had over 20 different varieties. Another was dedicated to Pinky and Perky. Again the stall owner, who had raised and slaughtered the pigs, was happy to spend time answering my questions about his sausages, charcuterie, porchetta, pate and other porky products. We even exchanged a couple of recipes as I imparted my special rub for what my sister calls “the best roast pork ever”.  

No visit to Paris would be complete without a rummage around the many antiques shops and art galleries. Typically, I found some things I would have liked to purchase but it would have been wholly impractical given our next destination is New York.

Maybe it’s the time of year, but Paris is overrun with Asians, and not just Japanese. No doubt the stores and French economy are duly grateful as the ones I’ve seen have been heavily laden with shopping bags from their favourite stores: LVMH, Gucci, Hermes and so on.  The love affair is reciprocated as Paris has an astounding number of great Asian restaurants, particularly Japanese, which are just the job for my regime, along with my favourite mollusc, oysters.

With my beloved working, and being entertained by clients in the evening, I’ve been left pretty much to my own devices, a wholly desirable state of affaires. Meaning I can do what I want, when I want. I am however taking him out for a relaxing dinner a deux this evening at a little gem of a place I have found on my meanderings: just the one Michelin star.

The weather’s been a bit cold, damp and foggy. In fact you can’t see the top of the Eiffel Tower.  The Xmas decorations are up and there’s a festive buzz in the air. Only a month or so to go until the big day. Of course, the decorations are restrained but classy and stylish as befits the capital of fashion. We’re off to New York tomorrow morning where the decorations will be larger than life, really full on and totally appropriate for the Big Apple.

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