rain at last

Anticipating being offered a little English teaching job at one of the Grenoble engineering schools, I asked my niece Poppy for some coaching regarding what was/wasn't interesting for her age-group. She advised me, "don't talk about traffic, difficulty parking or the weather unless it's really insanely bad... or do it as a monologue in such a way that no answer or further comment is possible". But, when it rains after 2 months of drought - and is so cold that snow is visible on Chamrousse, I can't resist. From one day to the next we have changed from keeping the outside doors shut so as to keep the house cool, to doing this to keep the house warm. I'm wearing wool underwear and thick jerseys - all just one week after it being too hot to sleep.

(In the event I didn't manage to convince either the university or me that standing up in front of a large group of not-hugely-motivated students was the job for me. To my relief I am not offered the position. But the issue of how to be more economically autonomous remains.)

The rain means plans to go camping have morphed into just hanging out chez nous. After getting up very late we call in on our local flea market to buy some scales because this is the issue:

I want to at least chart my descent into middle-age flab, whilst not promising to change course. I like food too much! Yesterday we had pasta pesto (our basil) and garden tomato salad for lunch, then local organic veal stew and pear and almond tart (maison) for supper.

In the afternoon I pick up my paint brush to capture the only two flowers (rudbeckia and japonese anemone) to have survived the drought:

Later we watch "Cyrano de Bergerac" (1990), a glorious film which earns Dépardieu a place in the annals of cinema, even if some of his more recent efforts are insufferably crass. The surprise for us both was quite how difficult we find the French. Even with (French) subtitles much of the dense vocabulary in the five-beat lines eludes us. But the emotional punch of Cyrano's final speech, after revealing to Roxane - too late - that he is the man she has loved all along, is the same each time I see the film:
Quelque chose que sans un pli, sans une tache,
J'emporte malgré vous,
et c'est...
Mon panache.